Pass the Microphone
by BJXCBFOREVER
Summary: "Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person." - A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt). Includes various AUs. Ratings may vary.
1. The Original Four

**Pass the Microphone**

 **The Original Four**

 **I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary: "Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person." - A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: The night guards take Phone Guy's daughter out trick-or-treating. However, Mike isn't exactly thrilled about their choice in group costumes.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing, brief death mention**

…

 _You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy._

Mike Schmidt stood before the large mirror in the bathroom, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed as he stared at his reflection. He couldn't believe this. He actually couldn't believe this. For one, that Phone Guy had concocted such an awful idea as to put together a group costume. For another, that their group costume was… _this._ It was absurd. He hated it. He hated every second he was dressed in this getup. The shirt was too big, the trousers were itchy, the hat made his forehead sweat. The theme of the outfit was the absolute worst part, but Mike forced himself not to think of it. He'd rip it off if he dared think about who he was dressed as.

This entire thing that started when Cindy - Phone Guy's six-year-old daughter, his pride and joy - had announced what costume she wanted to be wearing for Halloween this year. Mike had never had anything against the holiday - he prided himself in knowing just how to scare people silly - but he'd never so much as celebrated it as he had used it as an excuse to buy (and, of course, _eat)_ bagfuls of candy. Though, that was usually due to differing reasons; not because he hadn't wanted to. He'd expected Cindy had wanted to go trick-or-treating (what kid didn't, right?) and he'd found her choice in costume both cute and flattering at the same time. But there was a small spark of blame in Cindy's choice, as that had set off the disaster that was _Phone Guy's_ choice. It was already sad enough that a man Phone Guy's age was so excited to go trick-or-treating, but in _these_ outfits? Mike just wanted the earth to swallow him whole, even giving an expectant look at the tiles beneath his black shoes. _C'mon, Earth. Do your thing._

Nothing. No mercy for Mike Schmidt tonight.

Mike supposed Phone Guy's enthusiasm for the holiday had an endearing side as much as it did an annoying side. He had to admit, seeing the man ecstatically decorate the place had brought a smile to his lips. He was fine with decorations. _Decorations,_ he could handle. _Group costumes,_ however, especially ones that looked so _ridiculous,_ he could not.

Oh, and wasn't it just the icing on the cake that he had invited Jeremy and Fritz to join in on this? God, Mike was never going to live it down. If it wasn't Phone Guy taking pictures to remember this 'wonderful' night, then it would be Fritz constantly bringing it up or Jeremy using it as a dig at Mike. He squeezed his eyes shut, both out of irritation and to avoid looking at himself any longer.

 _You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy._

To be honest, Phone Guy's smiling face was the only thing keeping him from tearing the outfit right off, stomping on it then setting it alight and roasting marshmallows over its warm glow. That, and Cindy's. She was just a kid - one would have to be a complete arsehole to ruin a kid's fun! Well. Mike _was_ an arsehole, but not that much of one.

 _You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this for Phone Guy. You're doing this -_

"Mike? Are you ready in there?"

Mike's eyes opened, his mental mantra interrupted, and he looked at the door's reflection in the mirror as knuckles rapped gently against it on the other side. Fuck, this was it. He'd have to go out there. Mike swallowed the lump in his throat as he checked himself again and nodded, despite knowing Phone Guy wouldn't see. That was a lie, of course. Nothing could prepare him for this. One more quick glance and he turned, opening the door and stepping out into the spacious living room. Two pairs of eyes were immediately on him as he stood there in the doorway, staring down at his feet and ears burning bright red. It only got worse when Phone Guy exclaimed, _"There's_ our Freddy!"

Mike's face could've caught alight then and there.

Yes, yes, there he was, dressed up in a brown suit and black bow tie; modelled entirely off of the animatronic bear he despised. What was worse was that he was wearing bear ears and a top hat, with small slits cut into the brim for the ears to pop out of. It was ridiculous - he _felt_ ridiculous. His gloved hand clenched in to a fist. His prosthetic one had already been set to its holding feature; ready for the microphone it would hold.

How _humiliating._

"You look great!" Phone Guy exclaimed, stepping over to join him. He adjusted Mike's left bear ear slightly, then beamed at him. Mike peeked up at him. Phone Guy himself looked ridiculous too, but Mike wouldn't say that. He'd worked hard on his costume and hurting Phone Guy's feelings was something Mike wouldn't dare to do. The red turtleneck didn't look _that_ bad, he supposed. Not even with the added ripped features, the design of which really did resemble the tears on Foxy's fur. Even had a fake endoskeleton pattern. Nice. Murky trousers ripped off at the knee for the rest of Foxy's costume and another pair, this time coloured grey, for the bare endoskeleton legs the animatronic had sported. The costume really did look pretty nice, all things considered. It was the top that Mike inwardly cringed at. Not just the fox ears, oh no, but the fact that Phone Guy's usual blond hair had been dyed crimson for this very event.

Mike had screamed bloody murder when he'd first seen him yesterday.

"I look like a fucking _idiot."_ Mike muttered in shame.

"No, you don't." Phone Guy insisted, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"It's H-H-Ha-Halloween," piped up the other male in the room. Mike looked over at him; he looked just as embarrassing, "everyone looks s-silly."

"Must be counting you too, Jer." Mike said bitterly; Jeremy Fitzgerald frowned deeply at him. Admittedly, given he was younger and _looked it,_ Jeremy didn't look _as_ bad in his costume. Twenty-one years of age and he could still pass as somebody much younger; it helped him blend in better on Halloween. His yellow and orange beanie only seemed to make him look cute, as did his yellow jacket and matching trousers. Phone Guy had fashioned a white t-shirt with 'LET'S EAT' imprinted on it, which he wore beneath the coat. He'd also managed to get his hands on some orange boots. To be honest, despite how basic it was, Jeremy's costume had been the most difficult to think of, as Chica wasn't the same kind of animal as her friends were. Still, Phone Guy had quickly taken charge of the situation and, soon enough, here Jeremy was in full costume.

"Aw, c'mon, you two." Phone Guy shifted his hand to Mike's back, giving he and Jeremy a kind smile, "You both look great! Very, uh, very accurate."

"Bullshit." Mike replied, "How the hell's this accurate? If it was _accurate,_ I'd be wearing a freaking bear suit and someone else's blood!"

Phone Guy's smile dropped at the implication of the events that took place during the night shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. He didn't need to be reminded at what he had narrowly escaped himself. "Uh, y-yeah, well…I, uh, I told you, Mike: we don't have all the materials to, uh, to make suits for ourselves or anything. A-And, uh, besides, my attempt at making a Foxy mask didn't, uh…didn't go very well…" He cleared his throat and perked up again, giving his boyfriend a smile, "So, these will have to do!"

Mike grunted and dared to look down at himself again. He supposed this was better than walking around in an actual Freddy suit - and not just because the actual thing would kill him. Still, he hated how he had been convinced to do this. He gave a dejected sigh, "Can't believe we have to dress up as these fuckers just cause your kid wanted to be a security guard this Halloween."

Phone Guy gave a proud smile, "Well, we can't have a guard without the things they're supposed to watch! That'd just be wrong." He gave an excited glance at the door, "Cindy's getting ready right now. She, uh, she wouldn't let me see her until she was finished with her outfit. Gosh, I hope Diane got the right coloured shirt…" Mike snorted. Doubtful. Phone Guy's ex-wife hated everything to do with Freddy's. It was one of the very few things she and Mike had in common. Though, she'd have to be a real bitch to purposely ruin her kid's costume like that. "…Well," Phone Guy went on, "I'm sure Cindy knows it's supposed to be purple. Speaking of purple," he turned to Jeremy, "where's Fritz?"

Jeremy shrugged, "He called and said he's on his way, b-b-bu-but y-you know what F-F-Fr-Fri-Fritz is like. He'll probably be 'f-fashionably late'." He rolled his brown eyes, using his fingers as quotation marks, then fixed his thick square-shaped glasses with one gloved finger.

Phone Guy's lips fell, "Well, I, uh, I sure hope he gets here soon. I'd h-hate for Cindy to have to wait around. She's, uh, very excited to get out there and get some candy!"

Mike frowned at the two of them, then sighed and sat down on a nearby chair. Oh, of _course_. They simply couldn't leave without their Bonnie! What inhumane demons did _that?!_ Well…he supposed it was a bit better that it wasn't just _him_ going through with this. If it had just been he and Phone Guy dressing up as killer animatronic animals, he would've been feeling a lot worse. Not that anyone shared the sentiment. Fritz and Jeremy had happily gone along with Phone Guy's idea for a group costume, especially Fritz, who had exclaimed that he finally had a use for those bunny ears he had ("Don't ask why I have 'em, though," he'd said in response to their flabbergasted expressions; they'd all agreed not to). Jeremy had at least showed some uncertainty, though that was only because he hadn't been trick-or-treating in a long time and was worried he was too old now.

The security guard looked to Phone Guy. Good _God,_ one part of him wanted to kill this man for doing this to him. He was supposed to be his partner, damn it. _How could you do this to me, Phones?!_ Mike exclaimed mentally, _Jesus, you and your…stupid new hair colour…which looks dumb, by the way! I mean, God, why would you even -_

"Mike?"

Busted.

Mike jolted as curious green eyes locked onto him. He felt his cheeks flare up, "Y-Yeah, what?"

"You were staring. Everything alright?"

"Y-Yeah, it's just…" He hesitated. Should he even criticise Phone Guy's costume? He'd put so much effort and hard work into it. It'd be rude to put that down. Besides, he was his _partner._ That was just wrong.

"Hm?"

"I…it's…I can't get used to you with that hair colour…"

Phone Guy blinked, then chuckled and rubbed the back of his head, "Hehe, yeah, it, uh, it probably does look a little weird. Uh - but that's alright. Should wash right out after Halloween's over!…Hopefully…" He scratched his cheek idly, eyes drifting to the ceiling in thought, "Uh - if it doesn't, I'm gonna have a lot of explaining to do when I visit my mom next weekend…"

"Well, what was the point?" Phone Guy regarded him confusedly. "No offence, Phones, but you didn't need to dye your hair."

"O-Of course I did. We can't have a _blond_ Foxy."

"Well…" Mike gestured to Jeremy's ponytail, "Why couldn't you have dressed as Chica? Fitzgerald's got ginger hair - that's closer to red than blond. You could've been Chica and he could've been Foxy." When he didn't receive a reply, he looked back to Phone Guy, only to see him frowning. Mike paused, then frowned right back, "Oh, wow. You're legitimately offended, aren't you? Jesus Christ - you are. You are legitimately offended that I _dare_ recommend you dress as anyone _other_ than your favourite. Christ, Phones!"

"I'm Foxy." Phone Guy said adamantly. Mike sighed.

Jeremy waved a hand, "I, uh, I'm cool with being Chica. Sh-She-She's my favourite, after all."

Mike snorted, "Oh, look at that. Fitzgerald's being the _girl._ What a shock."

Jeremy flushed bright red, "I-I'm - sh-she's my favourite, okay?!"

"Oh, look at that. Fitzgerald's favourite is the _girl._ What a shock."

"Sh-She was nice to me - Mr. Cawthon, you said he wouldn't do this!" Jeremy suddenly exclaimed, looking to Phone Guy with a frown.

Phone Guy sighed, then looked to Mike, "Mike, c'mon, be nice." Mike gave him an obnoxious grin in return.

Suddenly, the door burst open and in stepped a lanky, prominently brown-skinned (with a few patches of white skin here and there) and bunny-eared man with dreadlocks tied back into a ponytail. In one hand, he clutched a replica of Bonnie's signature guitar. All eyes went to him as he waved his free hand, "Hey - sorry I'm late, guys. Traffic was a freaking _nightmare."_

" _Fritz!"_ Jeremy yelped, eyes bugging out at the sight of him, "We said _Bonnie!"_

"I _am_ Bonnie!" Fritz Smith exclaimed right back, shrugging at him.

"You're _Toy_ Bonnie! Not _Bonnie!"_

Fritz frowned at him, which looked downright ridiculous with his rosy red cheeks and bright blue suit, "What?! So, you guys can dress as _your_ favourites, but I can't dress as _mine? Lame."_

"Freddy ain't my favourite." Mike piped up, "He was just the only one left, okay? I don't _have_ a favourite. Fuckers tried to kill me…"

"Still! That's just not fair."

Phone Guy groaned and put a hand to his head, "Gosh…what're we gonna do? We can't go out as three of the originals and one of the toys. T-That's not a complete set!"

Fritz gave a shrug, obviously not seeing the problem, "Why can't we just go as the animatronics that were around in '87? You guys can just rough yourselves up a bit and you can pass as broken down animatronics! Here, look, Schmidt can go as Toy Freddy if we put a little bit o' makeup on 'im!"

"Fuck no." Mike said immediately, "You ain't puttin' _shit_ on me. It's bad enough I got convinced to dress as _one_ Freddy - I ain't dressing as the other! Especially since I didn't even get to see that one…"

"You d-d-don't want to meet 'im…" Jeremy muttered.

Phone Guy gave another groan, "This is such a shame…I was hoping we'd have the complete set…"

Mike looked at him. The expression Phone Guy had - defeated, upset, concerned - made Mike's chest swell with such an unpleasant sensation that he frowned. Oh, no. Nobody upset Phone Guy and got away with it. Not _his_ Phone Guy. Simply wasn't allowed. He stood up and went over to Fritz, gesturing for him to lean down. Fritz did so until he matched Mike's height, "Yeah?"

"You still got spray paint 'n' shit in your van, right?" Mike muttered to him.

"Sure, but…ah, Schmidt, no! I'm not spraying my freaking outfit with _paint!_ I'll reek like hell! You even know how hard it is to wash that stuff out?"

Mike rolled his eyes, "For fuck's sake, just _do it,_ will ya? Sooner you do this, the sooner we can get the hell out of here, get some freaking candy and come back here." _And hide away from the world._

Fritz crossed his arms, "And what do I get out of it?"

"The satisfaction of knowing I won't kick your ass."

Smith and Schmidt stared at each other for a moment, then Fritz sighed, "Ah, fuck - fine." He raised his voice to address the others, "But next year, we go as the Toys, okay?" With that, he turned and walked out, mumbling to himself about favouritism.

Phone Guy raised a brow, "Where's he going?"

"Gonna go fix his outfit." Mike said, puffing his chest out proudly. He expected Phone Guy to thank him, perhaps reward him with a hug or a kiss for his work, but nothing came to him. He frowned a little until another voice called out to them.

"Daddy! Ready now!"

Phone Guy gave a delighted gasp and Jeremy got up from his seat, all three men spinning around to the doorway. The door was gently pushed open and there stood Phone Guy's six-year-old daughter, shyly wringing her hands as her big, green eyes looked around at them all for evaluation on her costume. It was a perfect replica of the security guard's uniform at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, from the black epaulettes on the purple shirt down to the shiny black shoes. Even Mike couldn't suppress a grin at the sight of her. "You look great, sweetheart!" Phone Guy exclaimed proudly, clapping his hands at her in applause.

Cindy gave him a cute grin before running over to Mike, "Mikey," she said, tiny hands grasping his prosthetic one. He stared down at her curiously, "I wanna go as you for Halloween, okay? Can I have this?" She gave his metal hand a shake.

Mike gave an awkward smile, "Sorry, Cindy, but I'm gonna need it. Gotta hold my microphone and all." Cindy visibly deflated, her rosy lips stuck out in a pout at him, and he grinned, "Well, hey, who says you have to be _me_ for Halloween? I mean," he faked a thoughtful moment, real hand to his chin, "with that hair and those eyes and those clothes…y'know, you really look like your dad!" Cindy perked up slightly. "Hang on - watch." Mike turned away to pick up one of the many toys that were littered around the living room. He turned back to her and knelt down to give her the plastic phone on wheels, "Look! You're the Phone Girl!"

Phone Guy could've exploded with joy then and there as Cindy beamed and picked up the receiver of the smiley-faced phone, holding it to her ear and calling out, "Hello, hello!"

Her father's hand went to his mouth in happiness, a small and embarrassing squeak breaking out of his lips, "Awwww, honey! That's great! L-Look, I've got a little protégé!" He knelt down and patted her black hat-covered head gently, "Who knows, huh? Maybe one day, y-you really will be the Phone Girl!"

Cindy giggled and fell against him in a cuddle, tiny arms going around his neck. Phone Guy collected her into his arms and hugged her close, smiling widely. Cindy brought her face up from her dad's chest to point at Mike, "Look, Daddy! Mikey's Freddy!"

"Yeah, he is. He makes a good Freddy, huh?"

"You take that back." Mike growled out darkly. Phone Guy and Cindy shared a laugh.

The door opened again and Fritz walked back in, frowning glumly. The old colour of his suit and bunny ears - an obnoxious blue that had been painful to the eyes - had been replaced with a dark purple that was perhaps a little _too_ dark to be a Bonnie shade of purple. "Okay - fixed my outfit. But now I reek like - Oh, my God - look at you, kiddo!" He grinned down at Cindy, who bounced over to him and grabbed fistfuls of his trousers. Phone Guy cringed and wanted to take her away, lest the spray paint stained her hands.

"Look, Uncle Fritz! Look at me!"

"I'm lookin', kiddo!" Fritz replied, "Geez, you're gonna be a better night guard than I was! Hey," he gave her a smug smile, "you ain't dressing as me for Halloween, are ya?"

Cindy shook her head, blond curls swishing, "I'm going as Daddy!" She picked up her phone again, "Hello, hello!" Phone Guy had to bite his lip to stop himself squeaking again.

"Nice!" Fritz flashed her a thumbs up.

"Alright!" Phone Guy clapped his hands, "We all ready to go?"

Cindy whipped around to him, bouncing up and down excitedly, "Can we go get candy now, Daddy? Can we? Can we?"

"Of course, honey!" Phone Guy chirped, "So long as everyone else is ready!"

"I'm good to go!" Fritz confirmed.

"S-Same here." Jeremy nodded, playing with his fingers.

Mike gave a grunt.

"Alright, then. Let's get going, huh?" Phone Guy ushered them to the door. Cindy took hold of Jeremy's hand as they went, while Fritz excitedly strummed at his guitar's fake strings loudly, shouting about how much candy they'd get.

Mike let out a sigh and readjusted his hat. Well, here he went. Out in to the world, where everyone would see him in this stupid Freddy outfit. God. How Phone Guy had convinced him to dress as his worst enemy, he'd never know. He supposed Phone Guy just had that way with people - especially him, given the nature of their relationship. He went to follow the others, only for Phone Guy to hold out a hand to stop him. "Phones?"

"Mike…" Phone Guy looked away for a moment, fiddling with his hands, then he looked to Mike properly, "Y'know…if you _really_ don't want to come trick-or-treating with us…you don't have to…"

Mike blinked his blue eyes, "But…don't you guys need a Freddy? Make it a 'complete set' and everything?"

"Well, sure, but, uh…well, Cindy's got a Freddy doll that we could use." He gave a shrug. "It won't _really_ matter, I suppose. I just, uh…I don't want you to feel like you're being forced to do this…just, uh, say the word and you can stay here. I-It's fine. I, uh…I was being insensitive when I asked you to dress up like that…" He shyly looked away, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh - I know how much you hate Freddy. It…w-wasn't really okay for me to ask you to do this…I'm sorry, Mike…"

"I - No! D-Don't apologise!" The brunet waved his hands, "It - It's fine, really. It doesn't matter."

Phone Guy dared to glance at him, then gave him an awkward smile. He took Mike's gloved hands in his and pulled him a little closer to kiss his cheek, then smiled at him warmly, "Happy Halloween, Mike. Candy's in the kitchen, if any trick-or-treaters come around." He flashed him one last smile before releasing him and grabbing his fake hook from the nearby shelf, slotting it into place on his right hand.

Mike watched him go, suddenly feeling…bad. Gosh, it was just like Phone Guy to consider Mike's feelings like that. Put a stop to a plan just to make Mike feel better. Phone Guy really was a saint; the best kind of boyfriend a person could have. Mike bit his lip and looked down at himself. He really _did_ look ridiculous in this brown suit and with the stupid bear ears and lame bow tie, but…it _was_ Halloween. Fitzgerald had had a point - everybody looked silly on Halloween. That was the principal of the thing. Look silly, get candy, have fun. He couldn't have fun when he was home alone, without his Phone Guy to keep him company.

It only took two seconds for Mike to make up his mind.

"Ah - Phone Guy, wait!" The guard exclaimed, snatching his microphone from the shelf and jogging to catch up.

Phone Guy turned back, blinking confusedly at his boyfriend as the shorter male caught up, "Mike?"

"Screw it - I'm coming with you." Mike said without hesitation.

Phone Guy's brow lifted, "You are? B-But I thought you were against it…?"

"Yeah, well…damn it!" Mike took off his hat and ran a hand through his brown quiff, "You just - You make this fucking _face!"_

"What face?"

"Just this _face!_ Where you…look all…sad and crap and I just wanna _punch_ it cause it's _wrong_ , but I _can't_ cause it's _you_ and - damn it, Phone Guy, don't make me say it again!" Mike looked away, face a brighter red than Phone Guy's hair. Gosh, this was just so corny. He felt silly all over again.

"Aw," Mike dared to peek; Phone Guy was smiling at him, "who knew Mike Schmidt could be such a softie, huh?"

"Sh-Shut up! Jesus, Phones, I do a nice thing for you and you take the piss outta me! What a _bastard_ …"

Phone Guy chuckled and took hold of Mike's hands again, bringing him close once more. Mike only felt himself grow warmer. "Thanks, Mike. This, uh, this means a lot, y'know. We're gonna have a blast, just you watch!"

"Yeah, well…couldn't let you guys go without a Freddy. Not a _monster_ or anything…" Mike muttered, looking away briefly. When he looked back to Phone Guy, only to see that same old smile, he gave him a little smile himself and leaned up to his face.

"Ah, ha - slow down there." Phone Guy put a hand to his shoulder. Mike paused and looked at him confusedly. "Foxy and Freddy don't, uh, kiss or anything," Phone Guy said, almost awkwardly, "so i-it'd be pretty inaccurate if we did."

Mike blinked twice, then smirked, "Hey, we ain't out the door. That means we aren't Foxy and Freddy yet." He grabbed the front of Phone Guy's turtleneck and brought the man down to his height for a kiss, which the older man gladly returned.

Mike rested his prosthetic hand on the back of Phone Guy's head and Phone Guy laid his hands on Mike's shoulders. They stayed like that for a few seconds, before hearing Cindy call from outside, "C'mon, Daddy! C'mon, Mikey! Hurry!"

The men broke apart, smiling to themselves, then they shared an embarrassed chuckle. Phone Guy took Mike's real hand in his and went to go, only to pause, "Oh! Almost forgot…" He turned back to pick up the eye patch he'd left on the sofa, slipping it over one eye, "There! _Now_ my costume is perfect!"

"You sure you should be wearing that? You're blind enough without your glasses…" Mike's brow furrowed. The man must've been wearing contact lenses. Though, Mike was _sure_ Phone Guy had mentioned being allergic to them…

Phone Guy smiled at him, "Don't you worry, I'll be fine. Even if I have difficulty seeing, I, uh, I'm sure you'll steer me away from trouble."

Mike's lips lifted until they became a grin, "Well…hey, just in case…" He picked Phone Guy's glasses up from the coffee table and slotted them into his coat pocket.

Phone Guy grinned in silent appreciation, "Now, c'mon! Let's go get some candy!"

Mike laughed as Phone Guy took his hand and led him outside to join the others. Cindy bounced over to them once they reached the group and hurriedly grabbed her father's hand, dragging him down the street to the first house. Mike laughed at the sight, then followed them there.

All in all, Halloween that year hadn't been as bad as he thought it'd be.


	2. But a Number

**Pass the Microphone**

 **But a Number**

 **I don** **'** **t own Five Nights at Freddy** **'** **s. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary:** **"** **Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person.** **"** **\- A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: As much as he loved Mike, this one little blip in their relationship just wouldn't leave his mind.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing, sexual themes/allusions to male/male sex, very brief and very light allusions to unsavoury topics.**

 **By the by, you** _ **can**_ **request things if you'd like. In fact, I encourage it. No way am I gonna be able to think of all these one-shots on my own.**

…

It was before they'd even agreed to start a relationship that the thought had first entered Phone Guy's head. If he was honest, it was the reason he hadn't confessed his feelings to Mike sooner. That constant reminder in the back of his head, constant belittling and constant self-loathing.

 _He's so young…_

Eleven years. They were apart by eleven years. That was…disgusting, wasn't it? Mike being so young and Phone Guy…not. Twenty-four and thirty-five. Disgusting. It was a good thing nobody knew they were in a relationship (save for Fritz and Jeremy, of course). Not only because they'd be horribly judged for being two men, but because of their _age difference._ Phone Guy already felt enough shame about having such feelings for someone much younger than him; everybody else's agreement would only make it worse.

They'd discussed it very little; a quick comment or two just before the agreement to give dating a try. Mike had told him it didn't matter; he didn't care how old Phone Guy was, neither should Phone Guy. The age difference hadn't mattered to him; he was legal, he'd "done more illegal shit than dating an older man" and he could do whatever he wanted. "I've got an aunt and uncle who're _eighteen_ years apart, Phones! What do I care about _eleven_ years?" was what he'd said in response to Phone Guy's worries. That had soothed the blond very little. The Schmidt family were very different than the Cawthons or anybody else Phone Guy had heard of, for that matter. Phone Guy had been raised entirely differently to Mike too, they'd had much different childhoods and teenage years. Mike had spent most of his behind bars or in a cop car; Phone Guy had spent his with his nose buried in books and constantly having his mother tell him what was 'proper' and 'normal' for a boy of his age. As if she'd know.

The whole age difference issue - as it _was,_ in Phone Guy's opinion - wasn't brought up again until another stage in their relationship. They'd been together for a good couple of months at the time. Everything was fine; the emotional bond was there, as it typically was between any two people who had gotten out of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza alive and had actually helped each other survive. That was something special, so it was only expected that the two wouldn't tire of each other so easily. It'd still been a shock, though, when Mike had started acting strangely around him and, after much gentle coaxing from the older man, confessed what had been bothering him. He was attracted to Phone Guy; not just emotionally, though. Physically. He wanted to have sex. He thought Phone Guy, however, didn't want to. The blond had admitted pretty early on to having an intimacy problem for much of his life, explaining that his marriage with Diane had never been too physical, and that he didn't want to get Mike's hopes up. The younger male's worry had been perfectly justified in that sense and Phone Guy had suddenly felt so awkward when the blushing male had confessed to it, but it hadn't been anything horrible. It was natural, actually, Mike wanting to sleep with him. He was young, sex drive still pretty high. Phone Guy had to admit, the thought of such physical activities with Mike had crossed his mind once or twice, though he'd quickly shoved them aside like nothing had ever happened.

Because Mike was so _young._

Good God, it was bad enough he was dating the man, kissing him and hugging him close, but _sleeping_ with him? God, the public would have his head. Not that they would know about it, but, hey. The panic was there.

Phone Guy expressed it in that one conversation they had together on the subject and Mike once again went on about how it didn't matter. Everything was perfectly legal; Mike was over the age of consent, nobody even knew they were together, he _wanted this._ Schmidt had put up a pretty good argument, actually, but that didn't entirely calm Phone Guy's qualms. It had, however, calmed them enough to convince him to go through with it.

And how.

It'd been satisfying and pleasurable and had made Phone Guy feel more loved than he ever had, even if it was incredibly awkward (neither had ever been with a man before) and Mike had panicked halfway through about ruining everything and being too rough. Regardless, it'd been nice, though - underneath that warm, fuzzy feeling he'd gotten from being so loved by Mike Schmidt - he'd still worried about what they'd done. Thirty-five years old and there he was, fucking a twenty-four year old.

Jesus. That's what he needed. Jesus.

Since then, Phone Guy kept the biting worry in the back of his head, letting his relationship with Mike go on like nothing was wrong. Mike was a lovely boyfriend; he was considerate and gentle and loving. He put Phone Guy first, _always._ That hadn't changed from their friendship-only days, but it somehow felt different to be put first by a _boyfriend_ rather than just a mate. He wouldn't change a thing about Mike. Would change a thing about himself, though.

It was always after they made love that the creeping concern came shifting back to him the most and, this night, it hit particularly hard. Phone Guy lay there, staring up at the ceiling, beige blanket draped over his naked frame. Mike lay next to him, asleep yet breathing still a little laboured. He really wore him out tonight, it seemed. The very thought suddenly made him feel bad. For God's sake - _eleven years._ He was laying here naked with a _twenty-four_ year old man. He'd had sex with a _twenty-four year old man._ Phone Guy gulped, eyes shifting away from the ceiling to look at the wall, further away from the direction his lover lay in. How shameful this was, to engage in such activities with someone so much younger than him, let alone to actually _want_ to engage in such activities. He loved having Mike so close to him like this - _disgusting._ God, how gross he was. Thirty-five, a previously married man, a _father._ Here he was, with a man _eleven years_ younger than him. Phone Guy squeezed the blanket with one fist at the mere thought, then peeked at Mike a little. _H-He…He was eighteen when Cindy was born…_

Oh, God, that was disgusting, wasn't it?

Phone Guy bit his lip. Mike had been _eighteen_ when Phone Guy had still been married and his baby girl had been born. Jesus Christ. The blond's brow furrowed. _S-So…last year, he was twenty-three…and I was thirty-four…a-and the year b-before that, he was twenty-two a-and I was thirty-three…a-and before that…_

After a moment of letting that thought trail off into silence, Phone Guy gently lifted the blanket from himself, making sure not to jostle the bed too much and wake his Mike up (oh, _God,_ don't call him that anymore). Locating his boxers quickly, he slipped them on and wandered over to the desk nearby (recently bought; Mike's idea). He sat down on the chair and opened his drawer slowly, eyes on Mike the whole time, then took out a sheet of paper and a pen. One last glance at Mike over his shoulder and he turned around to get to work. Biting his lip almost painfully, he started writing on the paper, pen shaking lightly in his grasp and making his usually neat handwriting a little messy.

A line drawn down the middle to split the page into two columns.

On one column of the paper, he wrote _When he was:_

On the other, he wrote _I was:_

Then he got to work figuring this out.

 _23 - 34_

 _22 - 33_

 _21 - 32_

 _20 - 31_

 _19 - 30_

He had to pause there. Oh, _God,_ look at it. Look at the difference. He ran a hand down his face and peeked out between his fingers, as though the numbers would magically change themselves once he'd hidden his face. Nope. Still the same. He went on.

 _18 - 29_

 _17 - 28_

 _16 - 27_

 _15 - 26_

 _14 - 25_

 _13 - 24_

 _12 - 23_

 _11 - 22_

 _10 - 21_

 _9 - 20_

Oh, fucking hell, look. He covered his mouth with his left hand and continued on.

 _8 - 19_

 _7 - 18_

 _6 - 17_

 _5 - 16_

 _4 - 15_

 _3 - 14_

 _2 - 13_

 _1 - 12_

 _0 - 11_

There, he stopped. Not only because Mike's years were officially over with, but because he couldn't take it anymore. Phone Guy threw the pen down, suddenly not thinking of the sleeping man behind him, and covered his face with his hands, elbows on the table. This was disgusting. This was really disgusting. Mike had been a little kid when Phone Guy had been in _college._ For God's sake - fucking _look at it!_ He was absolutely disgusting. How could he have feelings for someone who had barely been able to form a good conversational topic while he had been off following his dreams and acquiring a good education? Phone Guy squeezed his eyes shut. He was disgusting. He was really, really disgusting.

It wasn't just the past that had ever bothered him, though. It was the future too. What would happen when they were older? What would happen when Phone Guy actually started to show his years on his face, in his hair and on his body? When the grey hairs would start coming in, when he couldn't move as quickly as he could now, when the smallest of activities made him want to lay down and rest, when gravity would grab at the skin on his face? Mike would still have all that. He'd still have his soft, brown hair and his working joints and his energy (oh, his _energy)_ and his clear skin. He'd still be able to run around and fight like he did nowadays. Oh - what would happen when Phone Guy's memory and things started to go too? That happened with old age, didn't it? Well, Phone Guy was the older one here - it would happen to him first. How ever would Mike put up with all that? Going everywhere with someone who couldn't keep up? Someone who would have to be reminded of the littlest of things? Someone who simply wasn't as active nor handsome as they used to be? He'd hate it. Mike would _hate_ that. Mike would hate _him._ Mike wouldn't want him anymore. He wouldn't be the Phone Guy Mike knew now, so he wouldn't want him anymore. He'd break up with him the second his blond locks got invaded by grey - Phone Guy could see it now. His Mike would leave him for someone younger, someone closer to his age. Someone who could keep up; make him happy, inside and out.

Both hands came up to cover his mouth as he felt tears sting the backs of his eyes. Mike would grow tired of him. He wouldn't have Mike around anymore. Mike Schmidt, his wonderful, special Mike Schmidt, wouldn't want to be with him. It was bad enough that Phone Guy was disgusting in his want and, quite frankly, _need_ for Mike to be around, but this too? It was too much. A part of him almost wanted to break the relationship off now before it got worse; a part of him had wanted to do that since the relationship had _started._ But, no, no, no - he _couldn't._ He _loved_ Mike. More than he'd loved anyone else in such a manner; more than - and he felt guilty admitting it - Diane. He simply couldn't bring himself to do it. This had opened his eyes a little, the realisation that he would only get older and less attractive, while Mike would be perfectly fine.

Shakily, he picked up his pen again and flipped the page over, drawing another line to make two more columns.

On one, _When he'll be:_

On the other, _I'll be:_

Here we go.

 _25 - 36_

 _26 - 37_

 _27 - 38_

 _28 - 39_

 _29 - 40_

Oh, fucking hell. That one made a lump form in his throat. Those worried and panicked tears made it passed the backs of his eyes and to the fronts. What would people _say?_ They couldn't keep their relationship a secret _forever._

 _30 - 41_

 _31 - 42_

 _32 - 43_

 _33 - 44_

 _34 - 45_

 _35 - 46_

 _36 - 47_

 _37 - 48_

 _38 - 49_

He went on like this until he hit Mike's age of fifty-four, his of _sixty-five_ before a drowsy voice piped up, "Phones?"

Phone Guy jumped in his chair, pen clattering on the desk as it dropped from his hand, and he whipped around. Mike was sitting up in bed, leaning on his elbow and staring at his boyfriend through narrowed eyes that tried to focus. Phone Guy prayed he wouldn't be able to see his unshed tears in the little amount of light the moon was offering. Mike blinked twice, then cocked his head, "Whatcha doin' over there, Phones? Come back over here…" He patted Phone Guy's side of the bed. When Phone Guy didn't move, only gave a nervous glance at his paper, Mike asked, "What're you doing, anyways? S'like…three am or somethin'…"

Two am, actually. But whatever, close enough.

"Oh! Uh -" Phone Guy moved to cover the paper with his hands, as though Mike's nonexistent x-ray vision were to kick in any minute. "J-Just, uh, finishing off some, uh, marking f-for my, um, my students! B-Big test tomorrow. B-Better make sure they're, uh, p-prepared and all that…Look over their old work, you know…Learn…from their mistakes…"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, Phones…No school 'n Saturdays…"

Oh, darn.

"Uh! W-Well, you know how I, um, l-like to be organised…!" Getting back in that bed with Mike felt sinful. Deliciously so. He wanted to, but he couldn't let himself. "G-Go back to sleep, I'll, uh, join you in just a sec…!" He turned away from him after that, pretending to continue his scribbling. Mike would only get annoyed if he discovered Phone Guy was _still_ yakking on about this. Schmidt honestly hadn't seen it as a problem; he hadn't understood why Phone Guy would do so. He heard shuffling behind him and assumed Mike was settling down to go back to sleep, so it came to his utter shock when he heard Mike's voice over his shoulder.

"Wassat?" The brunet blinked tiredly at the paper.

Phone Guy jumped a foot in the air and hastily covered the page with his hands, spinning around to address Mike properly, only to think again and turn back when he saw Mike hadn't bothered to put underwear on. Face bright red, he bit his lip anxiously. Mike really wasn't making this situation any better.

"Don't act like you ain't seen it before…" Mike mumbled as he rubbed his eye with his one hand, yawning a little. Eyes opened back up, fully this time, and Schmidt was awake enough to speak to his boyfriend properly. He leaned over his shoulder to get a better look, "So, what's that?"

"N-Nothing! School work!" He picked it up and held it to his chest, "Boring, boring school work! Y-You wouldn't be interested…!"

Mike frowned deeply. Phone Guy was the worst at acting okay; he didn't even need experience to know something was wrong. Without warning, he snatched the paper from Phone Guy's hands, ignoring the older male's objections, and held it out of reach when Phone Guy tried to grab it back. Once he was safe enough to read it, he did so and found himself frowning even deeper at the writing on the page, "The hell is this?"

"I-I - It's nothing!"

"These are _our_ ages!"

"No, t-they aren't. R-Random numbers - promise."

"Phones!" Mike turned back to him, tone and eyes demanding an answer. Phone Guy bit his lip again and fiddled with his fingers as he tried to think of a way to word it, but Mike had already figured out what was going on. His tone softened a bit, "…We talked about this, Phones. It ain't an issue…"

"I-I've been working it out, M-Mike and, uh…G-Gosh, Mike, I'm gonna _change_ and everything b-before you."

"So, what?"

"S-So! I…w-won't be able to keep up anymore. Y-You'll…" He couldn't bring himself to confess his real worry here, instead just turned away in shame. "Y-You…gosh, you were a _kid_ when I was in _college…_ "

Mike stared at him for a second before he gave a sigh and folded the paper in half. Things like this didn't bother Mike. Poverty, harm, murder, death - _they_ bothered Mike. Big things. Little things like this - some stupid numbers - just never bothered him. He'd cast out the care for those ages ago. But they upset Phone Guy and _that_ bothered him. _That_ was a big thing. Mike's brow furrowed as he dropped the paper into the bin nearby and turned back to face his boyfriend properly, opening his arms a little, "C'mere…" Phone Guy glanced at him wearily, fingertips touching his lip lightly in his worry, then he gently moved his chair closer. Mike placed one hand on Phone Guy's head and brought him closer until he was pressed to Mike's torso, hugging him gently. Phone Guy, for now, let himself enjoy the warmth and _love_ his boyfriend gave off. "Don't you even worry about that, Phones." Mike said gently, voice vibrating in his chest, "Don't you even worry. Who the hell's this gonna bother, huh? What's it matter?"

"I…Y-You should b-be with someone closer your age, Mike. S-Someone who can, uh, c-can keep up…" Phone Guy muttered, urging himself not to get emotional in front of his Mike. That would only make him worry. "It's just…t-the difference between us, it just…sometimes f-feels like…p-pedophilia…"

Mike froze, then broke the hug to give him a look of murder, "You did _not_ just fucking use that word to describe our relationship."

"W-Well, I-I-I…i-it just sometimes f-feels like - I-I'm not saying it _is,_ I-I just…" He sighed and took a moment to compose himself, "I-I…sh-shouldn't be getting involved with -"

"And who the hell says that?!" Mike snapped suddenly without meaning to, borderline scowling. "Anybody who says that can go _fuck_ themselves!" He took a moment to calm himself, then gently brought the man back in and stroked his hair, "…C'mon, Phones…Why the hell would I want anyone else when I've got you, huh…? Don't _want_ anyone else." It was then that Phone Guy brought one hand up to place on Mike's back in a subconscious attempt to get closer. As much of a rough and tough fellow as Mike was, he could really be very sweet when he wanted to be. Lovingly so. It only made Phone Guy love him more. "Y'hear me, Phones? I don't want anyone else. I love you, okay?" Phone Guy nodded against his skin. "Besides, who the hell's this gonna bother? Fritz and Jeremy don't give a shit and nobody else knows. We're both legal an' everything too, so there won't be any cops bustin' down your door any time soon." The thought made Phone Guy tense up; Mike noticed. "Hey, c'mon. You know I'd kick their asses for you." Phone Guy snorted in amusement and Mike smirked, "There we go."

"I-I just…w-where do you see us in ten years, Mike…?"

Mike's eyes widened and he blinked those big blues. They hadn't been together _that_ long. They were _close,_ certainly. All the crap they'd been through together…"Woah, Jesus." He muttered, still surprised by the amount Phone Guy was asking. It made Phone Guy tense up again, so he made quick work to answer. He did so with the same confusion he'd had upon being asked, "Where else would I see us? Together, o' course." Phone Guy blinked, lashes tickling Mike's torso briefly, before he took himself off of Mike and beamed up at him. Mike grinned down at him, "Besides, Phones, you remember my birthday's next week, yeah? Give us a little boost, right?" Phone Guy smiled up at him, feeling magnificently better than he had before. "Now, c'mon back to bed, Phones. Gets real lonely without you, y'know."

Phone Guy gathered himself together, those unshed tears diminishing without much more thought, and he stood up from his chair. The two men smiled at each other, then Mike grinned bashfully and took Phone Guy's hand, "Get over here…" He muttered, taking him back over to the bed. Phone Guy had recognised that look in his eye; sleeping wasn't what Schmidt had in mind.

For the second time that night, they engaged in the activity Phone Guy had been ashamed to think about; loving each other and letting the other know it. Only, this time, the older male didn't feel quite as ashamed as he had the first time around. The only shame he felt was at knowing how easily Mike could get him in such a state, and even that was something so minimal; he really was something special. Loved, Phone Guy felt, as he always did when he and Mike made love, especially when words of encouragement and reassurance were murmured into his ear and kissed into his skin. Mike didn't care about their ages; he loved Phone Guy. Lots. Told him so, over and over again.

Afterwards, when both were back in their earlier spots on the mattress, blanket tossed carelessly over their bodies and energy well-spent, Phone Guy was positively beaming at the ceiling above him. Sure, there was a hint of weariness in there, but his shame and worry were gone (at least, for now). Mike rolled onto his side and removed Phone Guy's glasses for him, "Don't wanna get these crushed…" He muttered as he deposited them on the bedside table, having to lean over Phone Guy to do so. The older man, unable to control himself, wrapped his arms around the younger one and pulled him down to his chest, holding him near and dear to his heart (like he always had done). Mike expressed a small amount of surprise before chuckling and allowing himself to be snuggled, holding his boyfriend right back.

For now, Phone Guy would let that little blip in their relationship go. Just for now. It would probably spring back to bother him later, but - _for now -_ he would dwell on the fact that Mike Schmidt loved him, no matter what some numbers said.

After all, age was but a number.


	3. Our First Christmas

**Pass the Microphone**

 **Our First Christmas**

 **I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary:** **"** **Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person.** **"** **\- A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: All Phone Guy wants this Christmas is to spend it with Mike. Too bad Mike isn't so fond of the festive season.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing, very brief allusion to somewhat sexual topics**

…

"Mike…Mike… _Mike…"_

The snoring, barely muffled by the pillow, didn't halt for a second. The blond frowned lightly, then smiled again as he tried once more. Fingers delicately placed themselves on the bicep of his sleeping boyfriend, shaking gently, "Miiike…Michael… _Miiiike…_ Miiichael…"

Finally, a growl escaped the brunet, eyelids fluttering lightly as his slumber was stolen from him, "…D'n' fuckin' ca' me Michael…"

"Sorry," Phone Guy replied, his smile widening now, "you, uh, y-you weren't responding to me before…"

Mike grumbled something unintelligible and flopped over, halfway onto his back, and looked over his shoulder at Phone Guy. He blinked his blue eyes several times to clear them, giving his partner a look of dreary confusion, "The hell, Phones…?"

The blond was kneeling on the bed behind him, fully dressed and smiling down at him. Mike looked him up and down; Phone Guy was wearing a baggy, white sweater with multicoloured dots all over it. It reminded Mike of Chica's bib and he gave a frown at it. Phone Guy didn't notice, "Time to get up, Mike! I-It's, uh, j-just five days until Christmas, y'know!" Mike only frowned even more. "Uh - J-Jeremy and Fritz are downstairs waiting for you!"

"The hell are they doing here?"

"I-I told you: it's just five days until Christmas! T-They came to hang out, y'know. C-Cindy's here too; sh-she'll be going back to Diane's pretty soon and she misses you a lot."

Mike stared at him for a moment before he sighed and started to sit up, blankets pooling at his waist, "Alright, fine. Jesus…"

"G-Great! See you downstairs!" Phone Guy leaned forward and pecked Mike's cheek, then clambered off of the bed and out of the room.

Mike grumbled in return and pushed the blankets off of himself, now sitting on the edge of the mattress. He rubbed his face with his one hand, the cold air swarming to his bare skin. He gave a small shiver at it, then collected his trousers and shirt from the floor. Mike always just dumped his clothes on the floor when he went to bed and very often found them folded up neatly by his bedside table. Phone Guy. Poor man hated to see clothes just thrown onto the floor like Mike did. The brunet picked his prosthetic limb up from his bedside table, hissing when the cold metal was pushed onto his bandaged stump, then he did up the ties with his teeth.

As Mike dressed, he couldn't quite keep the frown off of his face. Ever since December had started, Phone Guy hadn't shut up about Christmas. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. Mike didn't see what the big deal was. He'd never celebrated Christmas and he'd done just fine. What was the big fuss? A day of presents? Big whoop. He just didn't get it. Quite frankly, as happy as this Christmas thing was making his boyfriend, Mike wished Phone Guy would just shut up about it. Jeremy and Fritz too, for that matter.

God, was he the only one who didn't celebrate this dumb holiday?!

Once the brunet classified himself as presentable, he walked slowly down the stairs of Phone Guy's home to join everybody else in the living room. True to Phone Guy's words, Jeremy, Fritz and Cindy were there. The ginger-haired boy had parked his rear on the right side of the couch next to Fritz, who had Phone Guy's daughter in his lap. The little girl was fiddling with one of her dolls, brushing its yarn hair as Fritz gave her advice on which hairstyle to give it. "Could make it like Uncle Fritz's hair." Fritz was saying, running a hand over his dreadlocks.

Cindy looked up at him and tilted her head, "How would I do that?"

Fritz shrugged, "Well, y'know…you just…" He reached forward and took a few pieces of yarn into his hands, turning them over one another and twisting them, then letting them go when he couldn't quite figure out how to form his trademark hairstyle with them. "Hm. Uh, yeah, maybe it isn't…" He trailed off, his brown eyes finding Jeremy. He clapped him on the shoulder and gestured to his ponytail, "Or, hey, make it like Jeremy's hair!"

Cindy turned to Jeremy to critique his hairstyle; shaggy and tied back loosely, fringe almost falling over his glasses. The tiny blonde stared at him, then she said, "Your hair's pretty, Jeremy."

Jeremy shifted uncomfortably, a hand subconsciously going to his ponytail and playing with it, "Uh, th-th-tha-thanks…"

Cindy looked down at her doll and hummed thoughtfully, still conflicted on how she should style her doll's hair, then she looked up as she heard footsteps and gasped happily, "Mikey!"

Mike idly waved to her, rubbing his face with his other hand. As much as he enjoyed seeing Phone Guy's kid, he couldn't look at her without frowning all over again. Completely covered in _Christmas._ Skirt all red with that stupid white fur trim, red t-shirt with a Christmas tree on it - god damn it, was there no _end_ to this Christmas thing?! Cindy wriggled excitedly in Fritz's lap as the man waved to Mike, "Hey, Schmidt. Good to see you're still _alive."_

Mike gave him a sarcastic chuckle and went to the kitchen instead, where Phone Guy was. The blond looked up upon hearing Mike enter, immediately going away from the mug he'd set on the counter and taking Mike's hands in his, _"There_ you are! W-We've been waiting for you." He pecked Mike's forehead, then went back to the mug and picked it up, "Uh - hot cocoa for you. W-With little marshmallows - just how you like it!"

"Thanks…" Mike muttered as he took it from him, taking a sip of the warm liquid. It was milky and delicious, soothing his throat on the way down and settling in a nice pool of heat in his stomach. For a moment, Mike was less grumpy than he had been upon being woken up.

That is, until Phone Guy took his hand again and intertwined their fingers, "A-All ready for Christmas, huh, Mike? Can't, uh, can't have Christmas without hot cocoa, right?"

Mike's frown was back all over again as he raised the mug to his lips, "Right…" He grumbled, taking another sip to avoid talking anymore.

Phone Guy's smile fell, finally noticing his partner's negative mood, "Mike? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Phones." Mike sighed, "Just wish everyone would stop going on about Christmas."

Phone Guy blinked. He blinked twice. Once more. "…'Stop going on about Christmas'? W-Why? D-Don't tell me you - you don't like Christmas…"

"No. I don't." Mike said bluntly. He drank down a good amount of his cocoa before noticing the silence. Blue eyes flicked back to his partner, then narrowed lightly when they saw the look on his face. "What?"

"D-Don't like Christmas…?" Phone Guy muttered, hand dropping Mike's. He sounded as though the very idea was alien to him. "I…w-why not?"

"Cause it's freaking annoying." Phone Guy gasped and Mike rolled his eyes, "Oh, c'mon, Phones. You didn't really peg me as a festive person, did you?"

"W-Well, I…Y-Yeah!"

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but you were wrong." Mike turned and walked back into the living room, hearing Phone Guy's stumbling steps behind him.

"B-But - a-annoying?" Phone Guy spluttered out. Mike frowned and turned back to him, aware that Fritz, Jeremy and Cindy were looking at them now. "H-How could you say Christmas is annoying?"

"Easy. Christmas is annoying. There, I did it again."

Fritz scoffed, "Looks like we got a Scrooge on our hands…"

Mike whipped around to him, scowling now, "The fu - _heck_ did you just call me?!"

"I-I-It's a cha-cha-character from a book…" Jeremy explained, "H-He hate-hate-hated Christmas."

"Oh." Mike dropped his scowl, then sipped at his cocoa again, "Well, then, yeah. I'm a 'Scrowge'."

"S-Scrooge."

"Whatever."

Phone Guy rubbed the back of his neck, "G-Gosh…I, uh, I had no idea…"

"Mikey doesn't like Christmas?" Cindy piped up then, her tiny hands on the arm of the sofa. Her knees dug into Fritz's thigh, but he didn't seem to mind, "How come?"

"Cause, Cindy," Mike began, "Mikey's family is a little something called _Jewish._ My family has never celebrated Christmas, so _I've_ never celebrated Christmas."

"Y-Y-You hate Christmas cause your fa-family's Jewish?" Jeremy asked, arching a brow and questioning whether Mike had just been offensive to his own family or not.

"No, _dumbass."_ Mike snapped without thinking, prompting Phone Guy to loudly clear his throat and nod to Cindy, frowning at the brunet now. Mike cleared his own throat, urging himself to settle down, "That's just why I haven't celebrated it. I _hate_ it cause it's loud, annoying and _everywhere._ I ditched religion years ago; what Mom and the other Schmidts do doesn't bother me, so long as they don't make me get involved in Hanukkah. Which Mom _does,_ so…" He trailed off, drinking the rest of his cocoa down. Mike gulped, then let out a satisfied sigh, "So, sorry, but I ain't getting involved in any _traditions_ this year. Or any year."

Unbeknownst to Mike, Phone Guy's facial expression dropped immediately into an almost pout, fingers lightly touching his bottom lip in thought. Jeremy, however, did notice. The ginger-haired boy's brow furrowed. Phone Guy had been going on for ages about how this would be he and Mike's first Christmas together as a _couple_ \- which they'd only been for a few weeks now - and he'd gotten so _excited._

"D-Do you think Mike would, uh, w-wanna listen to some Christmas songs? O-Oh, he has such a n-nice voice…Maybe he could sing some!"

"W-What do you think Mike prefer on top of the tree? A-Angel or star?"

"G-Gosh - uh, I-I'm gonna put mistletoe everywhere!…D-Don't look at me l-like _that -_ M-Mike will do it anyway, if, uh, if I don't!"

Jeremy hated to think how he felt now that he knew his Christmas dreams for he and Mike were crushed. Jeremy swallowed thickly, then spoke up, "Uh - are you _sure_ there's n-n-n-n-no way you could, um, m-may-maybe celebrate Christmas _this year?"_

"Look, I just told you," Mike said defiantly, "I _don't like_ Christmas. I ain't celebrating it - end of story." Behind him, Phone Guy bit his lip and looked down at his feet.

"But if you don't like Christmas," Cindy spoke up, sounding desperate now. She probably was; children were at the core of every Christmas meaning and tradition. They lived Christmas, breathed it and were devastated when one of their favourite adults refused to take part. Mike looked down at those big, green eyes and felt a pang in his chest; it always bothered him how much they were like Phone Guy's, "then how will Santa come and give you presents?"

"Okay, spoiler alert, Cindy: Santa doesn't exist." Mike said bluntly and the jaws of the other three men in the room dropped.

" _Mike!"_ Phone Guy exclaimed, eyes bugging out of their sockets.

The other pair of green eyes became watery as a bottom lip quivered, "…S-Santa's not real…?" She whimpered, looking up at Fritz for guidance.

"Of course he is!" Fritz replied, plastering on a nervous smile, "Your daddy took you to see him at the mall last week, remember?! You told him everything you wanted for Christmas!"

"Fat guy in a suit." Mike muttered, scooping up cream from his mug with his finger.

" _Michael!"_ Phone Guy snapped.

Mike jolted and looked at him, "What?! I'm just _saying!_ See, that's another thing: you people are cool with some fat guy breaking into your house to leave you presents? I'd beat the shi - _pulp_ out of that guy if he did that to me! And getting around the world in one night? Calling major _bull_ on that one." He shook his head, "I'm telling you, Cindy, Santa ain't real. Might as well accept it now."

Cindy paused and stared into space as she thought about it. Adults were usually the smart ones, right? They knew more than kids, right? They were often right. So…Mikey was telling the truth? Oh, no, she didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit. Her face creased up as tears flooded the ducts, then she shut her eyes and held out her arms in her father's direction, _"Daddy!"_ She wailed, fat tears squeezing out of her shut eyes and down her cheeks.

Phone Guy's face fell and he immediately pushed passed his partner to get to her. Fritz passed her over to him and Phone Guy immediately scooped the poor girl into his arms, hugging her close and muttering words of comfort to her. As he gently rocked her and bounced lightly on the balls of his feet to soothe her, as he did when she was a tiny baby, he turned and glared at Mike over her shoulder. Mike felt himself take a step back; Phone Guy had never looked at him like that before. Phone Guy had never looked at _anyone_ like that before. He supposed, as nice as Phone Guy was, all dads couldn't accept someone making their little girls cry. Cindy sobbed into his neck, clinging to his sweater, and Phone Guy muttered that it was time to get ready for when Mommy arrived to take her home. With one last angry glare Mike's way, he briskly made his way out of the room and up the stairs.

There was silence for a moment before Jeremy muttered, "W- _Well,_ nice g-go-going."

"Oh, shut the fuck up." Mike snapped, making Jeremy wince and shrink back, "She was gonna learn it eventually! Might as well be from me!" He wandered over to Jeremy's side of the couch, where he stopped and stared, "That's where I sit."

"D-Does-Doesn't have your name on it…" Jeremy mumbled.

"The _fuck_ did you just say to me?" Mike dared him to repeat it. The scowl on his face was enough to make Jeremy whimper lightly and scramble to get up, almost tripping over the little table on his way. Mike plopped down in the seat and sighed contently, shuffling to get comfortable. "Besides, you guys are in the wrong for letting her believe that crap. Mom never told me such _bullshit_ when I was a kid and I had Hanukkah shoved down my throat." He sat back for a moment before feeling a pair of eyes on him. Blue eyes darted to Fritz, who was staring at Mike's lap. The brunet frowned deeply, "And what the fuck are _you_ doing?"

"…If your family's Jewish…" Fritz muttered thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he stared at Mike's lap, "…does that mean you've been circumcised?"

Mike drew back and scrunched up his face as Jeremy exclaimed, "F-Fritz! W-What the _hell?!"_

" _What?!"_ Fritz yelled back, hands up in defence, "That's a legitimate question! Jesus, you wonder about a guy's dick and suddenly you're the _jackass…"_

…

"Well, I hope you're _happy."_

Mike looked up from his TV show as his boyfriend wandered back in. Jeremy and Fritz had excused themselves while Phone Guy had been away, feeling much too awkward about the tension between the two males to sit there and watch it all unfurl. Mike had been left to his own devices, which was, of course, lounging in front of the telly.

The brunet watched his boyfriend walk over to him, hands on his hips and frown on his face. Mike frowned back, feeling some scolding coming his way. Phone Guy went on, "C-Cindy's completely torn up over w-what you told her! I-I had to explain to Diane - Mike, how _could you?!"_

"What?!" Mike shrugged, "She was gonna find out eventually!"

"Sh-She's _six-years-old!_ Y-You told a _six-year-old_ girl that Santa isn't real! T-That's _horrible!"_

"Oh, come on." Mike shrugged again, "She'll…Okay, fine. I admit, making her cry was going overboard."

" _Big time."_

"I didn't mean to do _that!"_ Mike exclaimed, "I was just telling her the facts! How was I supposed to know she'd _cry?!"_ He huffed and rubbed his face with both hands, "…Fine. I'll apologise next time I see her. Okay? Will that make you happy?"

Phone Guy didn't reply, only huffed through his nose and sat down on the armchair, grabbing a ball of yarn from the shelf nearby. Knitting had been a hobby Phone Guy had recently taken up under recommendation from his doctor that he do something to exercise his hands and get their strength up again, since an incident that had occurred before he and Mike had even met had weakened them. Mike watched him for a few moments, then huffed himself and looked back to the TV. A few moments of painful silence passed between the two, during which Mike continuously glanced at the blond, then back at the TV. Ironically, for a guy that talked a lot, Phone Guy was very good at the silent treatment. Mike had found that out before - _the hard way._

The brunet tried to think of a topic of conversation, anything to get his boyfriend to talk to him, and his blue eyes darted around the room for inspiration. Books? No, Mike didn't know enough about those to hold up a proper talk. TV? No, Phone Guy wasn't paying enough attention. Ask for more cocoa? No, that would probably peeve Phone Guy off even more; asking for more cocoa after upsetting his daughter. Books? Oh - he'd already thought of that! Mike checked his pockets to see if any inspiration would strike there, but no such luck. The brunet sighed, then looked back to the TV. Another Christmas commercial, this one telling viewers it was their last chance to purchase a Christmas tree at the store down the block. "Hurry! They're selling fast!" Mike scoffed. Yeah. He bet. What was even the point of the things? Why would anyone bring some random plant into their home and dress it up in obnoxiously bright lights, dumb tinsel and decorations called _baubles?!_ He just didn't -

Oh.

… _Oohhh._

There it was.

A topic.

"Hey," he spoke up.

Phone Guy didn't look up from untangling the yarn and the needles.

Mike cleared his throat and tried again, _"Hey."_

Phone Guy set a knitting needle on the chair's arm.

" _Phone Guy."_

"What?" Phone Guy said coldly, making Mike wince. Who knew Phone Guy was even capable of such a tone?

"Ain't ya gonna…spruce this place up…?" Mike asked awkwardly; asking such a question suddenly felt as dangerous as tight roping over a shark tank. "Y'know…get a few lights…? A tree…?…Whatever else it is you people do around this time…?"

"Haven't had the time. Busy with work."

"Well…school's out. You're free. You can, y'know…set some stuff up." Mike rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "…I'm sure Fritz will pick ya up a tree in his van if ya ask him to…Jeremy will probably bring over some stuff from his mom's…C'mon, I thought you'd be into all this."

"I _was."_ Phone Guy grumbled.

"Then what's changed?" Phone Guy didn't reply, though the look in his eyes turned from furious to depressed. Mike caught it and waited for an explanation, but none was given out as Phone Guy continued to pretend to focus on his knitting. Mike frowned, "Oh, I get it. Fine. Keep fucking ignoring me. I don't care." He slumped against the arm of the couch and glued his eyes onto the TV screen again, pretending to actually pay attention when his show came back on from commercial break. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement from the armchair as Phone Guy raised his head and looked at the brunet sadly, the look in his eyes reminiscent to a saddened pup's, then the blond sighed and set down the yarn. He got up from his chair and left for the kitchen, intending to fix himself up some more cocoa in order to distract himself.

As he left, Mike's eyes left the TV to watch him go, then the man sighed through his nose and turned back to the TV, shaking his head slowly.

…

As it turned out, Phone Guy did keep up that silent treatment for quite a while. Mike had gone home to his mother's during the next few days and Phone Guy hadn't called him once. Mike had considered calling him first, but refused to let the man 'win'. Instead, he'd moped around, watching nonsense on TV and listening to his mother talk about her game of checkers with the lady a couple of doors down. Even with his defiant dislike of Christmas, he couldn't help but feel even a little bad. Making poor Cindy cry like that. He felt like a fucking monster. Who _did that?_ Made some poor little girl _cry?_ That was just wrong. Not to mention upsetting Phone Guy, the nicest, sweetest man he'd ever known. Their relationship had only started a few weeks ago and already he was fucking up. He wouldn't be surprised if Phone Guy wanted to break up. The very thought sent an iron ball plummeting into his belly.

He just… _didn't like_ Christmas, though! Was that such a crime? Did everyone _seriously_ have to _love_ Christmas?! As bad as he felt for upsetting his boyfriend like that, he couldn't bring himself to understand what the huge deal was. Phone Guy was…overreacting. Yeah.

It was by chance that Christmas Eve was the day Mike returned to Phone Guy's house; the brunet had never really paid much attention to the dates of December, since they meant very little to him. When he'd turned up on Phone Guy's doorstep, the blond had regarded him awkwardly, but had let him in nonetheless. Phone Guy didn't seem as angry as he had been before, but now he just seemed…a little uncomfortable, if Mike was honest. It made Mike's gut squirm uneasily. The awkward night of sleeping in the same bed, backs to each other, had made it all worse.

The house was still undecorated too. Mike didn't like that one bit.

"Mike?"

Mike looked up from yet more TV, the only thing he could really bring himself to do lately. Phone Guy had put on his beige trench coat and was wrapping a scarf around his neck, "Uh…J-Jeremy's mom invited us - uh, that is, me and Fritz - around for Christmas dinner. Um, sh-she said we could both bring a plus one, i-if we wanted…"

The question was in there and Mike caught it quite easily, but the thought of sitting around in a place so _Christmassy…_ "Nah, Phones. I think I'll stick around here."

Phone Guy sucked in a breath, like he'd honestly been terrified of that as an answer, then he nodded and went to go. Mike was content on letting him, but the blond had more to say, "M-Mike, couldn't you at least - m-maybe _try_ to c-celebrate it? J-Just this once?"

"No, Phones. I don't like Christmas. I don't like the holidays. No offence, but I'm happy just sitting here on my ass."

"B-But…I-I mean, who knows? Y-You might enjoy it. Uh, I mean, l-like you said: you don't, uh, follow Jewish traditions anymore, so y-you're free to celebrate it if you want. A-And, uh, Jeremy and Fritz will be there. C-Cindy won't - she's with her mom this year, we - we take turns - I had her last year - uh! B-But, your friends will be there! S-So, I really think maybe -"

"Phones, I _just said_ I don't wanna go!" Mike suddenly snapped without meaning to. "Look, I appreciate that you want me to stop being a - a - whatever it is Fritz called me before, but I just don't do that kind of thing, okay? I don't celebrate Christmas and not just cause I ditched Jewish beliefs and all that - I just _don't,_ okay? Can we _please_ just end it there?"

He'd meant it to be an actual reasoning to the spiel Phone Guy had given. He'd meant it to sound sincere. He _hadn't_ meant to sound so pissed off.

The blond stared at him silently, hurt spread across his face, then he sighed through his nose and nodded, "…Alright. I, uh, I-I'm sorry, I…I was bothering you - I'm sorry. Uh, well, you know where everything is if you, um, get hungry or something…" Mike looked away to avoid seeing that expression anymore. He heard Phone Guy move away, but not to the front door. Rather, it was the cupboard under the stairs he went to, which he opened and pulled something out of. When he returned to Mike, a box, wrapped up in festive paper with a big green bow, was set down beside him, "Um…I-I got you a present, but, um…I-I mean…" Phone Guy rubbed the back of his neck, "I-If you don't want it, t-that's fine. Uh, I'll, uh, think of something to do with it." He cleared his throat, not meeting Mike's gaze when the brunet looked up at him with wide blue eyes. The blond nodded once, swallowing thickly, and went on his way out of the house.

Once the door was shut behind him, Mike stared at the present. He'd gotten him a present. Phone Guy had actually gotten him a present.

 _Oh, shit._

Gulping, Mike slowly reached over and picked up the gift, giving it a little shake next to his ear. No sound. He set it down in his lap and dug a metal finger into the wrapping, creating a hole and ripping open the paper. He pulled enough off to reveal the white box, which he carefully pulled the lid off of.

Inside was a sweater, neatly folded. Mike pulled it out carefully to get a good look. White with red stripes across the chest and belly and circling the biceps; pretty basic. On the chest, right in the centre, were the words OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS, surrounded by six love hearts; three on top and three on the bottom. It was in that moment Mike realised why he felt so terrible looking at this: Phone Guy hadn't _bought_ him a gift - he'd _made him_ a gift. The older man could spend hours a day making something with that stupid yarn of his; he'd already made another sweater and a pair of gloves for Mike before and a cute hat for Cindy. Now, he'd knitted a Christmas sweater.

Oh, fuck. Now Mike felt really fucking horrible.

Slowly, he hugged the sweater to himself, brow furrowed. Phone Guy must've worked so hard on this and here he was, sitting on his arse instead of being with his lover on a day that meant so much to him. Of course, that had been the part he'd been missing the entire time: the day meant nothing to Mike, but it meant so much to Phone Guy. Which is why the man was so upset - he didn't get to spend this special day with his special someone.

Mike bit his lip, then looked around hurriedly for some idea on what to do.

Looking around the almost barren room gave him the exact idea he needed.

…

"Thanks for the, uh, thanks for the ride, Fritz."

"No worries, Cawthon." The brown-eyed male said as he pulled up outside of Phone Guy's house. Both were stuffed with Christmas dinner, Fritz still wearing his paper party hat, though neither felt particularly fulfilled this Christmas. The dinner table at Jeremy's house had been pleasant enough, but with Phone Guy being so depressed, Jeremy being annoyed at Mike for _making_ him depressed and Jeremy's mother not knowing the context of the situation (and no one would explain it to her, lest Phone Guy get kicked out), it was a little difficult to stay cheery. At least the food had been good. Fritz patted Phone Guy's knee, "Hey, look, don't sweat it with Schmidt. His loss if he doesn't wanna spend Christmas with you. You just…You didn't say you'd put up your lights."

"Huh?" Phone Guy looked at him, only to see Fritz was looking straight at his house. Phone Guy turned to look, a gasp escaping him when he saw flashing lights coming from his living room window. The blond raised a brow, then looked to Fritz, "I…I didn't…"

Fritz looked to him and the two locked gazes for a moment, both coming to the same conclusion. Fritz let out a slow whistle, "Well, damn. Looks like our ex-Jew ain't so much of a Scrooge after all." Phone Guy didn't respond, the very idea putting him in awe, and Fritz patted his leg, "Go on. Off you go. Got some kissing an' making up to do."

Phone Guy jolted, then nodded, "Oh! Uh - r-right. I, um, th-thanks, Fritz…"

"You're welcome. Merry Christmas, huh?"

"Y-Yeah. Merry Christmas."

Before he even knew it, Phone Guy was walking down his garden path and up the steps to his porch. He took another peek through the window, the flashing lights from within the only thing he could see through the closed curtains. Phone Guy swallowed thickly, then ventured over to the door and unlocked it, stepping inside.

"Stupid fucking tree…come on! Light up already! For fuck's sake…if they sold me fucking bad lights, I swear…"

Phone Guy cautiously made his way to the living room, where he paused and stared. Lights had been strung up over his bookshelves and over the TV and along the wall and on top of the windows and…everywhere. Tinsel too. Stickers portraying Santa and elves and snowmen and reindeer were stuck on the walls. The radio sitting on the coffee table nearby was playing Christmas music (of course it was). A Christmas tree, deep green and freshly cut down, by the looks of it, had been placed behind the armchair. Tinsel and baubles and lights and random little decorations hung from the branches; quite a sight to behold, if Phone Guy was honest. The lights weren't on, though, unlike the rest of the ones in the room, which seemed to be the problem the man knelt beneath it was grumbling about.

"Jesus Christ…you better fucking light up, tree, otherwise you and me are gonna have some problems…Gonna take my fucking lighter to you…see you light up then, you little bitch…"

"Uh - M-Mike?"

The man jolted, almost hitting his head on a branch, and immediately whipped around, "Ph-Phones!" Mike looked to the tree, then jumped up and tried to cover it with his arms, "Don't look! Y-You ain't supposed to see it yet!"

"W-What…is all of this, Mike?" Phone Guy asked slowly, eyes going away from the tree to the rest of the room again.

"Christmas." Mike said simply, sounding a little lost. He picked up a nearby cardboard box, the one the lights had been packed into, "I, uh, just looked at the picture, really…" He muttered, gesturing to the picture of a decorated living room on the front of it.

Phone Guy glanced at it, then looked to Mike again, finally noticing the ensemble. He was wearing the Christmas sweater Phone Guy had made for him and a Santa hat had been dropped onto his head, his quiff still poking out. "You…Y-You're wearing it."

"Sure I am. You made it for me, right?" Mike shrugged. He bit his lip and approached his boyfriend carefully, "Look, Phones…I've been a real dickhead to you this month. I mean, all you wanted was to share something special with me and…I just fucked that up completely. Even made your kid cry…I'm really sorry." He sighed. "I…I know this is kind of a lame apology - lighting up the place and putting on this sweater you made me - but…Ah, geez…" He rubbed the back of his head, "Look…I'm just really sorry, okay? I…I didn't think this holiday meant that much to you. I-I mean, I've never celebrated it before, so…A-And y'know what? Maybe it's just cause I've never had anyone to celebrate it _with._ A-And now I have and…I've been a massive dick to him." He sighed through his nose, "I-I realised that too late, so…if you wanna break it off and celebrate with someone else, I totally understand…" _I won't like it, but I'll understand._

"B-Break it off? Y-You mean…our, uh, r-relationship…?"

"Yeah…"

"O-Oh…" Phone Guy fiddled with his fingers, "Did…did you wanna break up?"

"N-No! No, of course not." Mike waved his hands, "I-I'm just saying…if you want to -"

"I-I don't." Phone Guy said immediately, "Uh - I-I mean - w-why would I?"

"…Cause. I've been a complete prick to you."

"W-Well…I-I was being insensitive…"

" _What?!"_ Mike exclaimed, "How the hell were you doing anything wrong?!"

"Y-You didn't want to celebrate it and t-that was your choice. I-I kept trying to force you to, uh, do what _I_ wanted. I-I didn't take into account…a-and now I've guilt-tripped you into decorating my _house_ … _!"_ Phone Guy's brow furrowed worriedly, shame clearly settling in.

"Hey, you stop that! You didn't guilt-trip me at all - it was _my choice_ to do this! Just an apology for being a dick - not anything to do with what you did at all! Okay?" Mike took Phone Guy's hands in his, rubbing his thumb gently over Phone Guy's left hand, "Seriously, Phones, you did nothing wrong."

"N-No, come on. You, uh, you have to let me take some of the blame here." Phone Guy said seriously, "I _was_ being insensitive…a-and, uh, p-possibly a little anti-semantic too…? M-Maybe? Uh, the point is: I…well, I guess I just got so, uh, caught up in having someone to, um, c-celebrate Christmas with this year - _o-other_ than my daughter, y'know? - that, uh…I guess I just got _too_ excited…" Phone Guy hung his head.

"No, _you_ come on. I just told you, it's _fine. I_ was being the bastard here -"

"W-Well, so was I."

"No, you weren't. You were being perfectly reasonable -"

"So were you. I-It was your choice -"

"And it's my choice now. C'mon, Phones, it's my fault. I was being a dick."

"Well, I was being insensitive."

"But I was worse."

"N-No, I was."

"I was."

"I was."

"I was!"

"N-No, Mike, I was!"

"I was, Phones!"

"A-Are we really, uh, f-fighting over this?"

"Yeah, I guess we are!"

There was a pause, then both burst into laughter. Phone Guy pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to silence himself, while Mike went full-out and simply let himself show his amusement. Once the laughter died down, Mike smiled, "…Not gonna win this either way, are we?"

"G-Guess not." Phone Guy smiled back, "Let's just…share the blame this time, huh? S-Since we clearly can't agree…"

"…Fine. But I still say -" Phone Guy gave him an amused look, a raise of a brow, and Mike stopped himself with a chuckle. He leaned down to the box the lights had come in and reached inside, pulling out another wreath of them, "Hey, wanna help me decorate the rest of the house? I only got to this room…"

Phone Guy smiled excitedly, "T-Together?"

"Is there any other way of doing it?"

Phone Guy gave a little grin, which Mike returned. The brunet went to lead the way upstairs, but Phone Guy put out a hand to stop him. "H-Hold on there, Junior…" Mike paused and looked up at him confusedly, particularly when Phone Guy took the circle of lights from him. The older man set them down, then held out his arms. Mike blinked twice, then approached and practically fell against him in a tight hug. The blond held him securely, resting his chin on top of Mike's head, and gently swayed from side to side.

"…I really am sorry, Phones…" He felt Mike clutching his coat in a tight fist, as though he was scared Phone Guy would leave at any second.

"I know. I-It's fine, really." The blond was kind of glad he'd kept his coat open; Mike had his face pressed to Phone Guy's chest, buried in his own Christmas sweater; a reverse colouring of Mike's with Christmas trees on the front rather than a cutesy message.

It seemed to remind Mike of something, as the younger man raised his head suddenly, almost hitting Phone Guy right in the chin, "I-I didn't get you anything!"

"It's alright." Phone Guy gently smoothed the piece of hair that was sticking up from his hat, "Y-You're here. T-That's all I really wanted…" Mike seemed to calm himself, going back to Phone Guy's chest; this time with his head tilted so he could breathe more than just fibres. Phone Guy wrapped his coat around him, securing him even tighter to his chest as he hugged him again.

"…That was so fucking corny…"

"Hehe, I know. B-But it was true…B-Besides, you're the one who decorated my living room. I-I'd say, uh, y- _you're_ the corny one here."

"…Guess we both are…"

"Mm-hm…"

"…Hey, Phones?"

"Hm?"

"C-Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course."

"Uh, can you talk me through this tradition?" Mike suddenly raised his head again, his hand coming up and holding something up between them. Phone Guy looked up.

Mistletoe.

He looked to Mike, who had that mischievous glint in his eye, and he smiled, "O-Oh, that one's, uh, very simple. S-See, the _taller_ one," he took the plant from his boyfriend and held it up, "h-holds it like this. A-And then they, um…w-well you know the rest…"

"Hey, fuck you, I'm average height."

"I'm still taller."

"Yeah, well, I -"

"Mike," Phone Guy smiled awkwardly, "you're, um, delaying the _tradition…_ " Mike blinked, then smirked. The two men leaned in and shared a sweet, but passionate kiss beneath the mistletoe. Phone Guy's free hand cupped Mike's cheek, while one of Mike's rested on Phone Guy's chest and the other rested over his hand. They stayed like that for a few more moments before slowly breaking the kiss, reluctant, and Phone Guy dropped the mistletoe in favour of hugging Mike to him again.

Tick off another tradition he'd wanted to share with Mike right there.

"Phones, we're gonna spend the rest of Christmas together, right?"

"Mm-hm."

"Just us."

"Yep."

"Dr-Drinking cocoa and, uh…m-maybe some cuddling too?"

"Hehe, if Mr. Tough Guy thinks he can take some cuddling…"

"Hey, screw you."

Phone Guy chuckled, then nestled his face into Mike's neck as he murmured, suddenly feeling bold, "…Mike…I love you…"

Mike blinked, eyes widening as they stared into space over Phone Guy's shoulder. He hadn't just said…? No, it couldn't have been…W-Well, it wasn't the _first,_ he supposed, but it'd been so _long_ that… "You…You mean that, Phones…?"

"I-I wouldn't say it if it weren't true…"

"O-Oh…"

He felt Phone Guy tense up and begin to move away, "I-I'm sorry, that was too much…"

"N-No! No, it…just caught me by surprise there…" He pulled Phone Guy back to him properly, holding tighter now.

"Oh…"

"…I mean…you do know that…I-I love you too, right…?"

"…I, uh…had a feeling, hehe…"

Mike smiled against him, "Y'know, maybe there's _some_ Christmas traditions I'd be cool with celebrating. J-Just a few, though…"

"W-Whatever makes you comfortable, Mike." Phone Guy broke the hug, much to Mike's dismay, and smiled, "N-Now, let's hang up those lights, huh?"

"Uh." Phone Guy paused, smile dropping at Mike's tone. The brunet shuffled slightly, face bright red in embarrassment, "Uh…m-maybe…we could just…do this a bit longer…?" He asked bashfully.

Phone Guy stared, then smiled sweetly, "…Of course. Come here." The two joined up in their cocoon of a hug again, swaying gently in a sort of lazy dance, just as _White Christmas_ played smoothly on the radio nearby.


	4. Dedicated Artwork

**Pass the Microphone**

 **Dedicated Artwork**

 **I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary:** **"** **Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person.** **"** **\- A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: Phone Guy questions Mike on the inked message of his arm.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing, allusion to male/male sex, mentions of drug and alcohol usage**

…

"We're outta shampoo, Phones. Pick some up for me, will ya?"

Phone Guy didn't look up from his book when his boyfriend entered the room, rubbing at the back of his head with a towel. He did, however, smile widely and wait until Mike had plopped himself down on the sofa beside him to scoot over in order to sit closer. The brunet stretched his arm out and laid it on top of the couch's back, brushing against Phone Guy's shoulder blades; half wrapped around him. Blue eyes trained on the TV, allowing green ones to peek at the man.

It was Wednesday and Wednesday was one of Mike's prime workout days. The younger male jogged every morning, some evenings if he was up to it, but Wednesdays were when he broke out the weights a friend of his had given him and sat outside in Phone Guy's garden to put the things to good use. Saturdays were his other scheduled workout time; when he took a trip to the local gym to use the punching bag and running machines. Phone Guy sometimes liked to sit outside with him on Wednesdays, counting for him and wiping sweat from his brow whenever Mike requested it of him. Would make lemonade for him too, just to see the delighted smile on his face when Phone Guy brought the ice cold drink out to him.

The brunet had showered, judging by the sweet scent coming from him, and had changed into his tank top and jeans. That top left nothing to the imagination either; Phone Guy wouldn't brag or particularly like to admit it, but he… _appreciated_ Mike's fitness. Losing his hand to Foxy hadn't dissuaded him either; he still lifted weights and punched bags and all that other stuff. Just had a special hand he had to fit on first before doing it, courtesy of one Fritz Smith. Phone Guy was glad Foxy hadn't taken the whole arm; goodness knows how put off Mike would've been about working out if he had.

Phone Guy pretended to cough as he continued his subtle staring, looking away quickly when Mike moved, but the brunet was simply scratching at his nose with his prosthetic. The blond returned his eyes to him and gave another smile before deciding to return to his book, but not before catching the sight of something black on Mike's arm.

It was writing. Cursive, neat writing that he couldn't quite make out the meaning of from this angle, but the delicacy could still be seen and it made Phone Guy's heart swell to think that someone as rough and tough as Mike could have such a breathtaking display of calligraphy on him. Either the writing itself or the fact that it was on _his_ boyfriend somehow made it all the more alluring and Phone Guy found himself swallowing thickly, a small shiver running up and down his spine.

Mike must've noticed, for he glanced at him, did a double take, then turned to him properly. "Phones? Somethin' wrong?"

"Hm?" Phone Guy was still staring, unable to take his eyes away for a moment, before he became aware that he'd been busted. His eyes went to Mike's face, caught the curiosity and underlying worry, then he gave an embarrassed smile, "O-Oh! Uh, n-no, everything's fine! Hehe…" He willed himself to return to the pages of his novel, eyes focusing hard on the words but not quite reading.

It was Mike's turn to stare at him, "Well, you were starin' at somethin'…" He turned in his seat to look and Phone Guy bit his lip, thinking the man had caught on, but his assumptions were instead of the wall just behind the sofa, "There a spider back here or somethin'?"

"Uh - n-no, nothing's back there. I just, uh…" His smile turned shy as he raised his eyes from his book to look back at Mike, "…n-never noticed you had a tattoo before…"

You'd think it's be something he'd noticed on his boyfriend, but no. Phone Guy couldn't say he'd ever noticed such artwork on his man's bicep. Unless Mike had only gotten it recently, Phone Guy was willing to call himself the biggest idiot for never seeing it before.

"Hm?" Mike turned his arm to look at the writing himself, like he was checking to see if that was what Phone Guy was referring to, then he nodded, "Yeah. Got it ages ago."

Oh. Well, there you go. Phone Guy was the biggest idiot.

"Oh…What's, uh, w-what's it say?"

Mike brought his arm down from the sofa and bent it so Phone Guy could see better. Phone Guy leaned in to get a better look, hoping Mike wasn't put off by his curiosity at all, and read slowly out loud, "…'M-Mein Held'…" Green eyes looked to the brunet's face for confirmation, "Is…that German?"

"Yup." Mike nodded. As American as Mike was, he was forever proud of his German roots. Phone Guy found that to be quite charming.

"Oh. What's it mean?"

"My hero."

"O-Oh…" Phone Guy muttered, biting his lip to stop his smile from getting too big. Mike always called _him_ his hero for leaving those phone calls and saving him from Freddy and the others, so…gosh. Mike had gotten a _tattoo_ in his honour. He wondered briefly why Mike had never shown him before settling on the recollection that he always denied being a hero, so Mike obviously hadn't wanted to put him off or creep him out by showing a tattoo in reference to what he'd done. Still, he was…flattered. Honoured, in fact. He had to clamp his teeth down harder to stop the grin that threatened to break his face.

Mike stared for a moment, looked to the tattoo again, then back to his blushing boyfriend's face. Realisation hit him and he chuckled, "Ah - I see that face. It's, uh…it's not about you, though."

Phone Guy's expression dropped. "Oh."

"Nah, I got it when I was seventeen. Tenth anniversary thing, y'know?"

"T-Tenth anniversary? O-Of what?"

"My dad's death."

Phone Guy's heart stopped there. Mike had said it so casually and so light-hearted that he hadn't registered what he'd even said for a moment. The younger male leaned over him to collect the can of beer he'd left there earlier, taking a long sip, and Phone Guy became aware of his own staring.

Mike's father was a topic that they hadn't discussed very much and in no great detail; the blond considered it a forbidden topic, if anything. All he knew about Mike's father was…well, that he was dead and that Mike held a great respect for the man. The topic was simply taboo in the Schmidt household, but Mike had assured him that was for his mother's sake, though. She'd never moved on from Mike's father; never loved another man and hadn't even bothered to even try to find another. Mike liked that about her; Phone Guy simply thought it was tragic.

The blond bit his lip and averted his eyes, feeling bad that he'd immediately jumped to conclusions on who that tattoo was about. Mike sat back, turning back to his lover to continue the conversation, before pausing when he saw Phone Guy looking away. He sighed through his nose and patted his knee, "Phones, c'mon, we've talked about this. I ain't bothered about talking 'bout my dad. You don't have to look so awkward whenever he's brought up, okay?"

Phone Guy nodded, though it did nothing to improve his mood. "I-Isn't it illegal to, uh, get a tattoo when you're under eighteen?"

"Pfft." Mike took a swig of beer before replying, "You act like I ain't done illegal shit before. Just had to hide it from Mom for a while. Wear long sleeves, y'know?" He chuckled and drank down some more beer, "Nah, but I was hanging out with these assholes at the time, see, and they were all getting inked up. So, big guy turns to me and says 'Hey, Schmidt, you get one too'. You don't argue with a fucker like him; what he says goes, right? So, I think about it and I remember the anniversary's coming up and I just…y'know, I was gonna have to get a tattoo, might as well be something I won't be ashamed of in a few years." He shrugged, "So, I got one about Dad. In German, o' course. Dad would be tossing and turning in his grave if I got something in freaking English, lemme tell you." He chuckled, "Even though he was the one who was all, 'Lassen Sie uns nach Amerika zu gehen!'." Mike laughed, which quickly turned awkward when he noticed Phone Guy's blank look. "Uh - that means 'Let's go to America'…"

"Oh…"

"Yeah." He frowned, "Guys all called me a pansy for getting one so sentimental. Jus' cause I didn't get, like, some chick's fucking _boobs_ tattooed on my arm. Jesus…that's gonna look great in ten years." He scoffed out a chuckle, then looked to Phone Guy with a smile that asked for evaluation.

Phone Guy stared at the tattoo some more, eyes following the trail of black ink in all its curves, curls, swerves and swirls, then smiled gently, "Well, I, uh, I like it. It, uh, suits you better than…what they wanted you to get." He coughed awkwardly.

"Well, hey, wouldn't want you to get all jealous, right?" Mike grinned, "Notice _that_ on my fucking arm and just be all 'And who the hell do _they_ belong to?'." He burst into laughter, to which Phone Guy's smile turned politely awkward at, and then the brunet shook his head, "Jesus. Gettin' your girlfriend's fucking boobs tattooed on your arm. What a fucking dumb idea, 'specially since most of 'em broke up by the end of that year. One of 'em didn't." Mike rubbed his face as he tried to remember, "Think they got married cause she got pregnant or something. Pfft. Probably addicted to fucking…cocaine or some shit by now - and that's just the kid!" He laughed again; Phone Guy didn't find much of the humour. Mike shook his head, "Nah, they're probably divorced by now. She was kind of a bitch and he was a dickhead; either they both get drunk everyday or they just beat the shit out of each other. Either way, wouldn't be surprised if they've split." He rubbed his face again and took another swig of beer.

Phone Guy gave an awkward smile. What a…delightfully adventurous life his boyfriend had led before they met, with delightful people to hang around with. Phone Guy would work hard to keep him away from that life from now on. The blond hummed in satisfaction before picking up his book, intending to go back to reading, only to be stopped when Mike said offhandedly, "You should get one, y'know."

"A…a divorce…?" Phone Guy asked hesitantly as he looked up again. Check that off his list; he'd gotten that three years ago.

Mike scoffed, "Not the split. Tattoo."

"M- _Me?"_ Phone Guy put his book down again. Tattoos, to him, were always something big, tough guys got to impress people. Somebody as slender and as…quite frankly, nerdy as him with a tattoo? The concept didn't quite fit in his mind.

"Yeah." Mike placed his cheek on his fist and leaned a little closer, grinning mischievously, "Think it'd look kinda _hot."_ Phone Guy swallowed thickly and pulled at his collar. The very idea of being 'hot' to Mike Schmidt was certainly tempting; not that he wasn't already that. Mike made sure to remind him whenever they spent the night together. "Like…I dunno - what're you into? - maybe a…Scottish flag or something? Right there." He took his hand from his cheek to draw a circle on Phone Guy's left bicep.

The blond looked at that spot as though to assess it, then looked back to Mike, "S-Scottish?"

"Well, hey, if I'm gonna pay tribute to my _German_ roots, you could do it for your _Scottish_ ones." He held up his can of beer in a teasing toast, "European buddies, we are." He chuckled and downed the rest of his drink before setting the empty can on the coffee table, then going back to leaning on his hand. His smirk was smug, yet warm, then he tapped his prosthetic to Phone Guy's chest, "Or, hey, one that says 'Mike' right about here."

Phone Guy bit his lip, "Hehe - w-well, as tempting as that sounds, I, uh, d-don't think a tattoo's quite for me…"

"Heh. You don't do well with needles?"

"Uh - that and I think my mom would disown me."

Mike scoffed, "Who fucking cares what she thinks? You're also fucking another man - which would she hate more?"

"Hard to tell."

Mike gave another scoff and shook his head. He hadn't met Phone Guy's mother, but - from what he'd heard - he didn't particularly want to. The brunet tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, then said, "Y'know, a few years ago, I promised myself I'd get another one after my twenty-fifth birthday. As a sort of 'Hey, you've survived quarter of the way to a hundred! Nice going, buddy!' kind of thing."

"Oh." Phone Guy leaned back with him, "What're you gonna get?"

"I dunno. Didn't really think about it." He shrugged. There was a moment in which Phone Guy pondered what he would personally like to see inked out on his man's skin, then Mike smirked, "Maybe I'll get 'PG'. Right here." He prodded the section over his heart, "Right where it belongs."

Phone Guy had to bite his lip to stop that grin again, heat rising to his face. The very thought of Mike having artwork on his body dedicated to him was still the most touching thing ever. Still, there was an overlying worry there and his not-so-subtle grin dropped, "O-Oh, uh, d-don't do _that…"_

"And why not?" Mike sat up a bit.

"W-Well…what if we break up? Y-You'll have a constant reminder of it every time you look at your chest…"

"Yeah, so? Remind me that I had the best fucking boyfriend ever." Phone Guy's lips twitched, threatening to make another smile, and Mike added, "Besides - I love you, Phones, but you know you're my hero above my boyfriend. If anything, it'd be a reminder of what you did for me."

"I…I didn't _do_ anything…"

"Hey, don't start with that bullshit. You did and you know it." He opened an arm for him and Phone Guy scooted closer, nestling his head against his boyfriend's chest. Mike kissed his hair and hugged him with that one arm. The romantic moment was quickly tarnished when Mike said, much too casually, "Maybe I'll get one on my _dick._ Like, 'Phone Guy was here'."

Phone Guy's face immediately became as red as a tomato, "D-Don't do _that!"_

"Why? I'm the only one who'd see it." He grinned, "And _you,_ o' course."

"M- _Mike."_

"What?!" The brunet laughed.

"G-Gosh - y-you criticise other men for getting their girlfriend's, um, _ch-chests_ tattooed on their arms a-and you want one, uh…d-down _there…!_ B-Besides, that'd be…s-so _painful_ …" He gave an uncomfortable wriggle in his seat at the thought of a needle and ink going somewhere so…personal. Also, if he was being honest, the thought of someone else seeing Mike down there…didn't make him feel good.

Mike looked thoughtful as he scratched his temple, "You're right."

"Hm."

"…Should get one on my ass. 'Phone Guy only'."

Phone Guy sat up, "M- _Mike!"_

"What? C'mon, only you'd see it." That obnoxious grin was back. "You're the only one who goes back there."

" _Mike!"_

…

The topic of body art didn't arise again for sometime afterwards. Not until Phone Guy had awoken from an afternoon nap to find the house devoid of boyfriends. The blond had checked each room, reminding himself that it wasn't until the next day that Mike would return home, and he'd begun to worry. He'd asked Mike to leave a note if he was suddenly going to leave the house when the brunet first starting living with him for days on end; Mike just hadn't picked up the habit.

The blond had sat there on the couch, cold cup of coffee in hand as he waited for his lover to return. With Mike Schmidt, worrying was perfectly acceptable, especially if he was gone for long periods of time. Phone Guy had last seen him when he told him he was going to go to sleep to get rid of a headache, when the younger male had been watching telly. That was over two hours ago.

 _Oh, God, Mike, where are you?_

Just then, the door opened and shut and Phone Guy put down his mug to meet his boyfriend in the hall. "M-Mike!" He exclaimed as Mike kicked off his sneakers, "W-Where were you?! I-I've been worried _sick!"_

"Sorry." Mike gave him an apologetic smile, slipping off his coat. He did so slowly, hissing lightly when the movement seemed to bother him; it made Phone Guy's brow furrow in concern. He hung his coat on the hook and turned to Phone Guy with a grin, "I got it, Phones."

"G-Got what?"

"My next tattoo."

Phone Guy blinked once, mouth opening to form an 'o' shape. It was then he remembered Mike's birthday had been only the week before; his promise to himself had been fulfilled. The blond gulped, then asked slowly, "Didn't, uh, didn't get 'PG', did you?"

"Nah. See, I thought about that, but I got an idea on my way over there." Phone Guy showed his relief, even if he did feel a little bit of disappointment underneath. "I got something _better."_

"S-Something for your mom? T-To match your, um, dad's?"

"Nope. Still about you, don't worry." Phone Guy's back straightened, a subconscious push to get himself ready for whatever it was Mike had gotten.

"It's…not _my_ chest, is it?" He joked to cover up his nervousness.

Mike's grin widened, "Nope. Even better. I popped back to Freddy's earlier to make sure it'd be accurate."

"F-Freddy's? W-Why there?"

"I'll show you. Look." He rolled up the sleeve of his polo shirt and gently peeled off the surgical tape to remove the large wad of cotton wool from his bicep. There, inked onto the skin of Mike's left bicep was -

"…The phone."

"Yup." Mike grinned at the sight of the red phone from the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza's office, the very one Phone Guy had spoken into and Mike had listened from. Remarkably accurate details. "Ain't it great?! I took a picture of it and showed it to the chick with the needle. She was all 'You're getting a _phone_ tattooed on you?' and I just said 'For my special someone. How we met'. She thought it was the most adorable fucking thing ever, I swear." His eyes practically sparkled as he stared at it himself, then he looked to Phone Guy, "What d'ya think?!"

He was expecting Phone Guy to smile in that cute way of his, maybe even tear up and get emotional over such a dedication. However, the blond had a hand covering his mouth, staring at the image with eyes that held all the worry his words couldn't. Mike's brow furrowed, "H-Hey, what's wrong? Don't you like it?"

"I…W-Well, it's great, Mike. She did a good job. I hope you…tipped her."

"Well, what's that face for?"

"…Mike, those things…t-they're permanent, you know."

"Yeah?"

"S-So…gosh, w-we could break up, y'know…"

Mike blinked, then sighed, "Baby, c'mon, we talked about this. I said before, you're my hero above my boyfriend. I would've gotten this even if you turned out to be a complete dickhead when I met ya." He stepped forward to take Phone Guy's hand, "C'mon. This is just my little tribute to you for what you did for me. Ain't for 'he's the love of my life' purposes as much as it is 'he saved my ass' ones. I mean, it's for both, but mainly the second one. Okay?"

Phone Guy seemed to consider this for a moment before he blinked those big, green eyes and smiled that adorable smile. The one that he had to bite his lip to stop it turning into a grin. This time, he went all the way - one finger rose to his mouth so his teeth could gently dig into the pad. Mike grinned; that smile was his favourite, "What're you smilin' about?"

Phone Guy side-eyed him, "…'L-Love of your life'…?"

Mike blinked, then the heat immediately rose to his face too, making his cheeks a red that matched his boyfriend's, "W-Well…Jesus, it was just…uh…L-Look, Phones, the point is I got a fucking tattoo for ya! J-Just focus on _that,_ huh?"

Phone Guy laughed and stepped forward to take the brunet into his arms, being careful not to touch the latest work of art on his bicep, "It…It does look nice…Uh…M-Mike, is it normal for the, uh, ink to leak?"

"Huh?" Mike looked at it, then shook his head, "Oh. No, that's not ink. That's blood." Phone Guy's face immediately lost all signs of red, trading it in for snow white. Mike looked up at him, "Don't worry. That _is_ normal."

"I-Is it?"

"Mm-hm. That's what the cotton's for."

"W-Well - _G-God!_ P-Put it back on!" Phone Guy scrambled to do it himself.

"W-Woah, Jesus, calm down there, Phones!" Mike stepped back to avoid Phone Guy's hands. "It's alright, it's only a little bit. Does that for a while afterwards, then it's all set up. Got a cream to help with that, no worries. Supposed to take the bandage off within an hour, anyways, so…" Mike dabbed very lightly at the tattoo to mop up the blood, then ripped the bandage off altogether before rolling down his sleeve. He approached the blond, gave him a reassuring smile, and reinstated the hug, "And don't worry about getting your own or anything, huh? You're hot enough as it is. Though, if ya don't mind," the brunet grinned up at him, "I think I'll be getting 'PG' next time. Right over my heart."

Phone Guy bit his lip as that smile returned, briefly resting his chin in Mike's hair. His chest swelled - nobody had ever gone to such lengths for him before. A tattoo. His boyfriend - his wonderful, sweet, charming boyfriend - had gotten a _tattoo_ just for him. The man raised a knuckle to his lips as he felt happy tears begin to sting the backs of his eyes. Mike really did love him, didn't he? Gosh - he loved Mike too. Lots. He'd tell him so later. The blond looked down at him, taking his chin off of his head, "Uh…s-so. Does that mean you didn't get one on your, u-um, d-downstairs level?"

Mike laughed, either at the phrasing or the reminder of saying such a thing, then he shook his head, "Nah. Think this chick would've had a heart attack if I walked in and told her I wanted her to tattoo my dick."

"Oh."

"…So I'm gonna wait 'til she's not working, then get it done."

"Oh…W-Wait, what - M-Mike, you're not seriously -"

"Then I'll get one on my ass for extra measure."

" _M-Mike!"_

"Hey, you can come with me those times, 'kay? Gonna need someone I can trust back there to make sure they're doing it right."

"G- _Gosh,_ Mike, y-you're so…"

"In big, bold letters, right, Phones? 'Phone Guy was here' and 'Phone Guy only', m'kay? That's what we're agreeing on."

"W-We're not agreeing…G-Gosh, Mike…Uh. Y-You're not seriously going to get those done, right?"

"Heh." Mike's old obnoxious grin was back, "Only if you want me to."


	5. Make It a Good One

**Pass the Microphone**

 **Make It a Good One**

 **I don** **'** **t own Five Nights at Freddy** **'** **s. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary:** **"** **Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person.** **"** **\- A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: Phone Guy awaits the new year. Mike doesn't particularly care about that, either.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing**

…

"Phones, the fuck you doing?"

The blond didn't even look up from where he was staring at the clock on the wall, standing far too close to it. He'd been standing there for at least ten minutes now and Mike was getting a little peeved with having his boyfriend constantly in the corner of his eye. He wasn't even _doing_ anything special; just standing there. "Uh - just, uh, watching the clock."

Well, yeah, he could see that. "Why?"

"I-It's New Year's Eve! I'm waiting for midnight."

"Phones, it's six in the fucking afternoon!" Mike pointed out, gesturing to the clock Phone Guy had been obsessed with. "Six hours ain't gonna pass that freaking quickly!"

"I-I know, I just…" The blond reached up and tapped the clock's face, "M-Maybe it's slow…"

"Phones." Phone Guy finally looked over at him; that tone Mike had used was warning, it was the least he could do. "Get your ass over here." The blond snuck another look at the clock before abiding by Mike's wishes and joining him on the couch. Green eyes still locked onto the clock from where he sat and Mike huffed, _"Phone Guy."_ Phone Guy looked at him. "Relax, will ya? You ain't missing anything."

Phone Guy gave a small nod and settled himself, forcing himself not to look at the clock. He fiddled with his fingers anxiously, foot tapping lightly on the rug below him as he fought against his urges. It became so strong, in fact, that he had to snatch a book from the shelf to distract himself with. The words were a meaningless pool before his eyes; he had to constantly read the same sentence over and over again just to try and get the gist of what was going on.

Mike watched him, then gave a small scoff that alerted the blond. Anything to keep his eyes away from the clock. "You people celebrate the New Year too?"

"O-Of course! Don't tell me y-you don't celebrate New Years either?"

"Just another day to me." Mike shrugged, eyes going back to the TV.

Phone Guy's face fell. Oh, great. This was going to be a repeat of Christmas, wasn't it? Just…maybe without the happy ending. "W-Well…g-gosh, don't you, um, celebrate _anything?"_

Mike's eyes went to the ceiling as he thought about it, then he nodded once, "Halloween."

"Oh…" Well, it was something, he supposed. He and Mike could go trick-or-treating next year, if that was the case. He had Cindy next time, since Diane had had her this year, so that would make it twice as fun! Phone Guy gave a hopeful little smile, already forming the images of he and Mike's costumes in mind. Gosh, what would Mike like to go as? A zombie? Mummy? Vampire, maybe? Possibilities were endless.

"I just don't get it." Mike piped up after a moment. "Celebratin' New Years, I mean. Like…it's a new year. So, what?"

"S-So what?" Phone Guy repeated, "M-Mike, it's a special time. I-It's to, y'know, commemorate a-another year of…well, y'know. Life. W-We survived another year! That's - That's pretty great."

"Eh." Mike muttered, giving a shrug.

"Well…there are a lot of fun traditions, too!"

"Oh, yeah?" Mike looked at him expectantly, "Name one."

"Well…" Phone Guy gave it some thought, "The ball drop in Times Square is pretty exciting!"

"Pfft. My balls dropped years ago. Wasn't that exciting."

Phone Guy paused, took a moment to realise exactly what Mike had said, then he frowned as pink dusted his cheeks. Trust his crude-minded boyfriend to link such a cool tradition with…puberty. The blond looked away as he thought for a moment. God, he really didn't want a repeat of Christmas. As sweet as the Christmas had ended (he could still feel Mike in his arms, both clad in their sweaters and everything), he didn't want to feel the disappointment of not having his boyfriend celebrate with him all over again. That had hurt. Bad. He looked back to Mike, thinking over the traditions one could pull off at the start of the New Year, then he smiled hopefully and leaned back to him, "Uh - w-what about other traditions? L-Like, um…" He looked away bashfully, then glanced back, "Uh - t-the New Year kiss…?"

Mike's eyebrows lifted at that, though his eyes were still on the TV. "Keep talkin'…"

Phone Guy fought back a chuckle, "Uh - w-well, as midnight hits, t-two people, um, kiss. Y-Y'know to, um, bring good luck. Or so they say…"

"Heh. Well, don't you worry about that." Mike grinned and shifted so his back was leaning against Phone Guy's side. He picked up Phone Guy's arm and put it around himself, making Phone Guy blink twice. Mike didn't usually initiate cuddles. "I'm lucky enough as it is." He winked up at him. Phone Guy's cheeks were aflame immediately, glowing brighter than the red lights on the Christmas tree. He grinned and tried to hide it with one hand, which Mike gently took the wrist of and pulled away, grinning himself. "C'mon, that was corny as hell! What're you grinnin' for?"

"…I-It was…s-sweet…"

Mike snorted, then gave Phone Guy a grin that was borderline obnoxious, "And true." He laughed when Phone Guy turned away to hide the redness of his cheeks.

…

The cuddle had to come to an end around half-past eleven, since Phone Guy's excitement over the New Year had sky-rocketed again. Mike, with the same frown he'd worn earlier, sat beside him on the sofa with his arms crossed. The older man was practically bouncing in his seat; the New Year was merely a minute away. Mike rolled his eyes and huffed, alerting his boyfriend, who finally took his eyes from the TV to look at him, "A-Aren't you gonna watch the ball drop?"

"Jus' a ball on a stick." Mike grumbled, making Phone Guy frown and look away. Gosh, would there ever be a holiday he and Mike could just _celebrate together?_ Sure, there was Halloween, but that didn't mean as much to Phone Guy as Christmas and New Years did. He understood that it was Mike's choice and the man could do what he wanted, but…he just wanted to celebrate with his boyfriend, that was all. The way they were acting, it was like they were just friends all over again. The very thought made Phone Guy's heart drop.

The blond was broken from his thoughts and immediately perked up again when he heard the counting of a thousand people. Mere seconds until the a new year - he couldn't wait! Phone Guy grinned widely and joined in, "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! HAP -" He was interrupted from his cheering when the side of his face was suddenly grabbed and his head was turned sharply, then lips were pressed to his before he could even think of a question to ask.

The older man took a moment to think about what was happening here; of course, it was Mike who was kissing him so suddenly. The blond stared at him for a few seconds, felt himself smile against the other man's mouth, then he shut his eyes and gladly returned the kiss. A cold metal hand was put to his cheek next and Phone Guy settled his own hands hesitantly on Mike's waist. The two stayed like that, locked in their little bubble of love, for a good few seconds before the kiss had to break. Both stared at each other, then shared an awkward chuckle.

"G-Gosh…" Phone Guy muttered, "A-Always the kissing traditions with you, huh?"

"Hey, any excuse to plant one on _you."_ Mike replied, forehead pressed against Phone Guy's.

"Hehe, uh…y-you could've told me, though…" He rubbed the back of his neck with a light wince.

Mike flew back and his smile melted into an expression of concern and worry, "O-Oh, shit - did I hurt you?"

"No, no, it's fine." Phone Guy assured, gently bringing the man back to him. "J-Just, uh, g-gotta be prepared, y'know?"

"Heh. Kind of a…split-second decision on my part…Sorry."

"I-It's alright. Uh - i-it's not like I hated it or anything." Phone Guy smiled gently at him, staring at him with eyes filled with love and devotion, and softly kissed him again. He could practically feel Mike's surprise (Phone Guy rarely initiated kisses but, hey, Mike had uncharacteristically started a cuddle earlier), then his heart lifted when the other kissed back. When they broke apart, Phone Guy immediately rested his head on Mike's, bringing the man in for a warm hug. Turns out, it was just like Christmas had been: happy ending after all. "H-Happy New Year, Mike…"

"Happy New Year, Phones. Let's…Let's make it a good one, huh?"

"Hehe - o-oh, don't you worry about that, Junior. I, uh…I have a feeling it'll be a great one…"


	6. Overtime

**Pass the Microphone**

 **Overtime**

 **I don** **'** **t own Five Nights at Freddy** **'** **s. Scott Cawthon does.**

 **Summary:** **"** **Thank you so much for inspiring me to push myself to be a better person.** **"** **\- A one-shot series dedicated to Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike Schmidt).**

 **One-shot Summary: Mike's been taking lots of extra hours lately; Phone Guy's starting to get worried about his health.**

 **Pairings: Just Microphone (Phone Guy/Mike)**

 **Warnings: swearing, allusions to male/male sex**

 **Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!**

…

That early morning, Phone Guy was awoken when he felt the weight beside him disappear. It took him a few moments of disoriented confusion before he collected his glasses from the bedside table. The blond slipped them on, then looked over his shoulder.

Mike stood beside the bed, pulling on his purple work shirt, his back to his lover. Phone Guy watched as he buttoned up the shirt, then collected his trousers from the floor and pulled them on, tucking his shirt in and buckling up his belt. Tricky to do with one hand, though Mike was making it work beautifully. Phone Guy blinked twice, then looked at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Half-past six. In the morning. What was Mike doing? His shift didn't start for another five hours or so. "Mike…?"

The brunet flinched and whipped around to him, tie in hand, "Hey, what're you doin' awake? It's early, baby, you should go back to sleep."

Phone Guy rubbed his eye tiredly, "I-I was gonna ask you the same thing…"

Mike motioned to his outfit, looking amused at his lover, "Ain't it obvious? I'm goin' to work."

"But…your shift doesn't start for hours…"

Mike gave a shrug as he went to put on his tie, "I know, but ya know how it is. Boss calls in an' tells ya to work some more hours, ya gotta do it, am I right?"

"Charlie told you to work more hours?"

"Mm-hm."

Well, that didn't seem right at all. Charlie hated Mike; was glad to see him go at the end of the day. It didn't quite make sense that Charlie would have him work even longer; prolong their goodbyes. Phone Guy frowned, appropriately confused, and Mike smiled, "I'm getting paid for it, no worries."

"That's not…A-Are you _sure_ he said that?"

"Yup. Hey, don't worry about it, baby, I'll just be gone longer than usual."

"Hm…" Phone Guy's brow furrowed. Mike worked into the evenings usually; often came home around half-past eight. "So…when will you be home tonight?"

"Same time as usual."

Phone Guy blinked twice, jolting lightly in surprise. Wait, wait, wait. If Mike was just getting ready, that most likely meant he was taking the seven o'clock shift. And if he worked until eight… "M-Mike, that's thirteen hours! Y-You can't work _thirteen hours!"_

"Can't?" Mike scoffed out a chuckle, "Babe, I think we both know I can."

"N-No, I mean - you _shouldn't!_ T-That's way too long! Tell Charlie you won't do it, he has no right to make you work so long!"

"Got every right, babe." Mike sat on the edge of the bed and picked his prosthetic up from the desk, sliding his stump into the metallic cylinder and doing up the ties with his teeth. "He's the boss."

"Well, y-yeah, but -"

"Besides, I don't mind. Just a few more hours than usual. No biggie." He tied up his tie, now easier with two hands, and stood up. He gestured to himself, turning back to Phone Guy, "Do I look okay?"

"I - you look fine, Mike, but I still don't think -"

"Ah, don't sweat it, Phones." Mike walked around the bed to get to his side, leaning down to kiss Phone Guy's lips gently, "I can handle it, no worries."

"B-But it's the _weekend -"_

"Don't worry." Mike repeated, kissing Phone Guy gently again, then hugged him with one arm. "Get some sleep, huh? It's a Saturday, should be sleeping in."

Phone Guy hesitated before holding Mike close, hands on the man's back, "So should you…"

Mike chuckled and stepped back, "I'll sleep when I'm dead." He said, much too casually, then went to go, "See you tonight, babe."

And, just like that, he was gone.

Phone Guy listened as Mike moved around downstairs, no doubt collecting his shoes and some coffee, then heard the front door open and close. The blond sat there in silence for a few minutes, brow furrowed worriedly. Charlie couldn't have asked Mike to work more hours. Couldn't have. He hated Mike, there was no chance he'd want to see him more than he already did. And paying him extra? This certainly was suspicious. Thirteen whole hours of working at Fazbear's, as a day guard, no less. The night guard position was incredibly dangerous, but the day guard position was no less stressful. Phone Guy knew that from experience. Surrounded by screaming children, having the smell of bad pizza flood your senses, every chance of some kid puking on the floor or breaking something. Not to mention Mike would be in the same room as his worst enemies for thirteen whole hours.

God. Phone Guy just wanted to run down there and get his boyfriend himself.

The blond sighed through his nose and laid down. Perhaps he could talk to Charlie later; set him straight. Tell him there was no way in hell he'd let Mike work a thirteen hour shift at Freddy's anymore. A nine hour shift was bad enough. For now, though, he needed sleep. Phone Guy put his glasses on the nightstand and closed his eyes, already missing Mike's presence in his home.

…

As a teacher, Phone Guy had to get up pretty early. The sun was still just on the verge of rising when Phone Guy's alarm clock went off and he practically jumped out of bed. Very much a morning person, Phone Guy didn't entirely mind. Would've liked a bit of a lie in, but he couldn't complain. That was what weekends were for.

When his alarm clock began beeping that Thursday morning, Phone Guy almost immediately reached over and slapped the button, switching it off. Sat up and stretched, put his glasses on, noticed the absence of snoring boyfriends -

Huh?

Phone Guy turned. Mike's place in bed was empty once again. The blond frowned and listened out for any noises in the house. Maybe Mike just went to the toilet. Quick potty break before going back to sleep. Seemed logical. Why else would he be awake at half-past five in the morning? Phone Guy listened for the sound of flushing; it didn't come.

Instead, he heard clinking cutlery coming from downstairs.

The blond's frown deepened and he shoved the covers off of himself, hopping out of bed and making his way out. Descended the stairs slowly, still keeping an ear out, then walked into the kitchen, only to find Mike buttering some toast that had just popped out of the toaster. Phone Guy stood there stupidly, staring at him, until Mike caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye. The man gave a little jolt, then smiled good-heartedly, one hand going to his chest, "Christ, baby, ya scared me." Phone Guy didn't reply. "Made you some coffee, an' I'm making extra toast, if you want any."

Phone Guy opened his mouth, closed it stupidly, then nodded, "…Thank you."

"Welcome." Mike laid his buttered slice of toast on top of the pile, then picked up his plate and made his way into the living room. Phone Guy watched him go, waited a moment, then followed. Mike set his plate on the table, sat at one of the chairs, then took a slice for himself and munched on it. The blond stared until Mike turned to look at him, "…What?"

"…W-What're you doing awake?"

"Hm?"

"It's twenty-to-six, Mike, y-you shouldn't -"

"Shit! Is that the time?" Mike jumped out of his chair, hurrying to grab his shoes. "Fuck, I'm gonna be late!"

"Late? Your shift doesn't start for another hour or so."

"Nah, I'm workin' six o'clock today."

Phone Guy's frown was back, _"What?"_

"Yup. Soon as the night guard's gone, I'm in." Mike pulled his shoes on quickly, toast hanging out of his mouth.

"I - Mike, no! That's way too early!"

"Don't sweat it, babe, I can handle it." He got up, ripping the toast from his mouth and planting a buttery kiss on Phone Guy's cheek, "Love you, bye!" He exclaimed, running out of the house.

Phone Guy stood there, at a loss of words, for minutes, idly wiping the butter from his cheek with one thumb. He couldn't believe this. A six am shift? That was even earlier than Saturday's shift! Charlie couldn't possibly be asking Mike to do all this. What was the purpose? Mike was a day guard, his job was to watch the kids. Why would he be going in so early? Help set up, Phone Guy supposed, but then…

Jesus, if the night guard hadn't made it that night, then Mike would _see it._ No, no, Phone Guy didn't want that. Not for his Mike. Mike couldn't see that. Phone Guy had seen it all before and _God_ he was not letting his Mike be another accomplice in all this.

That did it. He was talking to Charlie as soon as possible.

…

And that he did.

Phone Guy stopped by Freddy Fazbear's Pizza in the late afternoon, after school was out and he'd finished his paperwork. He parked up just outside, wearing the frown of a man on a mission, and stepped out of his car. Due to the deal he and Charlie had made last year, he technically wasn't allowed on Fazbear's grounds, but he didn't care. Mike struggled with stress and emotional strain enough as it was, he wasn't having his impressionable boyfriend see the mangled corpse of another employee. Absolutely not. He wouldn't want anyone to see that, but especially not his Mike.

He entered the restaurant briskly, feeling a wave of nostalgia hit him. He hadn't been here in ages…Gosh, nothing had changed. Freddy and gang were all up on stage, as it should be. Kids were running around and screaming and chowing down on greasy pizza.

Phone Guy's eyes searched the crowd, looking for the man in question. Hank was mopping the floor near the backroom's door and Phone Guy considered going over, but he couldn't risk being seen by Mike. For some reason, it seemed crucial that he wasn't seen. Didn't want Mike to think he was interfering at all.

Come to think of it…where _was_ Mike? Phone Guy couldn't see him in the crowd at all and Mike was supposed to be watching the kids. On break, perhaps?

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing here?"

Phone Guy jolted and turned, only to see a very agitated Charlie standing behind him, hands on his hips and deadly scowl on his face. The blond swallowed thickly, trying to appear confident and pleased to see him, "Ah, Charlie! Uh - just the man I wanted to see!"

"Wish I could say the same thing." Charlie snarled, "We had a fucking _deal,_ Cawthon! You're not to step _foot_ in this restaurant ever _again."_

"Ah - right. I know that. B-But I just want a word."

"I got a word for ya," Charlie grabbed Phone Guy by the lapel of his trench coat, earning himself a yelp from the man, "Out!" He dragged him to the doors, pushing one open and throwing Phone Guy out. The blond went stumbling before ultimately tumbling to the pavement, landing painfully on his arse.

Phone Guy's brow creased as he looked up at Charlie, gasping when he realised Charlie was shutting the door on him. Unable to get up in time, Phone Guy settled for crawling to Charlie's leg and grabbing at him, "W-Wait, Charlie! Please! I-I just want a word!"

"And I gave you one. Now, fuck off. We agreed you'd stay out."

"I know! But it's _urgent!_ Please, I promise I'll leave as soon as we're done!"

Charlie growled angrily, rolling his eyes to the heavens, "Fine. For fuck's sake, get up. You look like you're about to suck me off." Phone Guy frowned and scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off. "What do you want?"

"I-I want you to take Mike off the six o'clock shift."

Charlie raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe, "Why?"

"B-Because! He's so _tired_ during the day, he's not getting enough sleep!"

"Not my problem."

"He's working _fourteen hours,_ Charlie! T-That's cruel! P-Please, he's exhausted. He needs less hours. More time to rest. Relax." _Plus, this is getting in the way of our sex life._ Phone Guy blushed, embarrassed that that had even entered his mind.

Charlie didn't notice, "Don't care."

"Charlie, _please._ I know Mike acts tough sometimes, b-but he's -"

"Listen, Cawthon," Charlie snapped, "you wanna whine about that little bastard being tired? Take it up with the fucker himself - Schmidt's the one who asked for extra hours, I didn't fucking _make him."_

Phone Guy's face fell, the shock settling in. _Mike_ had asked for such early hours? But…But why? He was always complaining about working at Freddy's! Why would he ask for more hours? This was so confusing; one mystery after another. Phone Guy just had no explanation for any of them. "W-Where _is_ Mike? I didn't see him in there…"

Charlie shrugged, "Beats me. He said he had to go an' do something elsewhere. Better fucking hurry up." He checked his watch, "Been gone a while."

"W-Well…it's time for his break, he probably stopped to get lunch -"

"He ain't got any breaks."

Phone Guy's jaw dropped, feeling anger (actual _anger)_ flare up inside of him. Mike was working without breaks?! No, no, no! He would _not_ allow Charlie to do something so cruel! "No _breaks?!_ Charlie, how _could you?!_ T-That's _slavery!"_

"Before you go accusin' me, you asshole," Charlie snapped, "Schmidt requested no breaks if I pay him for the time."

"W-What…? B-But…why?"

"The more he works, the more he gets paid."

"But -"

"For fuck's sake, Cawthon, you want answers, you go to Schmidt. I dunno what that fucker's doing and I don't really care." Charlie stepped back inside the restaurant, "Don't you dare fucking come back, you son of a bitch. I haven't forgotten our deal and you shouldn't either." With that, he slammed the door in Phone Guy's face. With the amount of strength he used, it was a wonder both doors didn't shatter.

Phone Guy stood there, completely blank for a good minute or so, thinking things over thoroughly. _Mike_ was asking for extra hours? _Mike_ was asking for no breaks? This just…it didn't make sense. Why would Mike do such a thing? For what purpose would he need extra hours and no breaks for? Phone Guy bit his lip. This was really starting to worry him now. Mike couldn't handle that much work! He couldn't!

The blond gave a small whimper of helplessness, "…Mike…"

…

"Maybe he's cheating on ya."

Phone Guy jolted, looking wide-eyed to the friend on his left, and Jeremy leaned forward to scold him, "Fr-Fr-Fritz!"

"What?" Fritz shrugged, holding his own pint of beer in one hand, "It's possible. Spending all that time out, not telling you why - that's first class cheating right there."

Phone Guy's brow furrowed worriedly. Mike, cheating on him? H-He wouldn't! Not his Mike. Mike was loyal to him, had been since before they'd even met! He couldn't possibly be cheating on him!…Could he?

No, no, Phone Guy wouldn't think like that. Not his Mike. His Mike was the most loyal man he knew. The blond looked to Fritz, "N-No, he's just…He's not."

"O-O-Of course h-he's n-no-not." Jeremy agreed, nursing his glass of cider. "M-Mike wou-wou-wouldn't do that. N-Not to you." He frowned across at his friend again, "S-So, stop being a _dick,_ Fritz."

"Hey, c'mon, I'm just thinking of every possibility here!" Fritz shrugged again, sipping at his beer before leaning on the bartop, "So, he's working a lot. So what?"

"S-So what?" Phone Guy repeated, looking frantic, "Fritz, he's exhausted! All the time! So sluggish, a-and he just doesn't _do_ anything when he gets home!"

"You mean you don't get any action anymore." Fritz replied, deadpanned, and made a ring with the finger and thumb of one hand, poking the index finger of his other hand through.

Phone Guy blushed bright red, averting his eyes, and Jeremy frowned, "Fr-Fritz! _Gross!"_

"I-I _mean,"_ Phone Guy asserted himself, frowning now. Couldn't Fritz focus on the important things here? "H-He's running himself ragged a-and I won't stand for it anymore. T-This has been going on for weeks now!"

"Ha-Ha-Have you tr-tried a-asking him why?" Jeremy offered up.

Phone Guy deflated, "No…Well, I mean, I've _tried,_ but…he's so tired, I don't want to bother him at all, a-and in the morning, he's rushing around." His shoulders drooped even more as he idly played with his glass of orange juice, "I-I feel like we haven't talked for ages…"

Jeremy's brow furrowed as he reached up and rubbed Phone Guy's shoulder comfortingly, while Fritz just muttered, _"Yeah,_ he's cheating on you."

The redhead shot a glare at his friend, earning himself a casual shrug, while Phone Guy honestly started to consider this. Mike was being so passionate about working all these hours, yet he wasn't there when Phone Guy had gone to talk to Charlie. If he was so serious about it…why skip out on working even more? 'The more he works, the more he gets paid'. If it was the money Mike was so desperate for, then there's no way he'd just leave during a shift like that; not if he was being paid for his time so diligently. Unless…he had somewhere important to be. Like…somebody's house?

Phone Guy shook his head defiantly. No, no, no, not his Mike. Mike wouldn't do that; he was positive. After all they'd been through together, after how scared Mike had been about his feelings for the man, he wouldn't just throw that all away! He wouldn't! Phone Guy didn't believe it. His Mike simply wouldn't.

…But, then where _had_ he been, if not somebody's house? Maybe they had a meeting place and he went there. A café, maybe. Or the park. Or a restaurant. Or -

 _No, no, no, no, no, no, stop it! Stop it right now! He's not cheating on you, he wouldn't! He's not off with someone else! Definitely not someone worthy of his time, not someone better than you, not someone his own age -_

Oh, ouch. That one hurt.

Panic filled Phone Guy's chest. Oh, fuck, what if that _was_ it? He was off with someone his own age; _younger_ than Phone Guy. This whole age difference between he and Mike had always been a problem, in his mind, so…fuck, this thought wasn't leaving him.

"W-Well, anyway," Jeremy spoke up, "V-Valentine's Day is c-co-coming up, so…y-you can just sp-spe-spend the day together. G-Get back on track, y'know?" Phone Guy didn't reply, grip on his glass tightening. "M-Mr. Caw-Cawthon?"

Phone Guy's head snapped his way, eyes wide, then he cleared his throat and let go of his glass, "I-I…I-I'm not feeling very well…" He turned and stood up from his barstool, hands immediately seeking refuge in his pockets, "Uh - g-goodnight, you two."

Fritz and Jeremy watched him leave the pub, then the redhead turned to Fritz, "N-Nice go-going, Fritz!"

"What?! I said it was a possibility!" Fritz exclaimed. There was a moment, then he scooted over onto Phone Guy's seat and grinned at the younger man, "Now, about Valentine's Day…"

"Fuck off."

…

 _Not my Mike…Not my Mike…H-He wouldn't…He just wouldn't…_

Phone Guy drove home in silence, hands clutching the steering wheel tightly, eyes never leaving the road, though not quite focusing on it. Fritz's words had gotten to him, attached themselves to his brain, and Phone Guy suddenly felt so scared. Never been so terrified.

What if…What if Mike _was_ cheating on him? God, Phone Guy wouldn't know how to handle that! The only reason he'd been able to handle his divorce with Diane was because he'd already fallen out of love with her (not that she knew that) and even _that_ had been painful. To be betrayed in such a way by someone he _was_ in love with…God, that would hurt. So bad. Would he yell at Mike? Cry? He was getting choked up at the mere thought of it, so he had no doubt in his mind he'd shed a few tears if it turned out his boyfriend was cheating on him.

Scratch that, he'd sob.

Phone Guy pulled up outside of his house, barely managing to let go of the wheel; his fingers so firmly locked. The blond climbed out of his vehicle, mind blank as he shut the door and locked it, making his way up to the house. The light in the living room was on, visible via the window, and Phone Guy swallowed the lump in his throat.

Mike was sleeping on the couch when Phone Guy got inside. The blond stood there, staring at his sleeping form for a few moments, completely numb. Mike looked so peaceful, lounging on the couch like that. He hadn't even taken off his shoes.

Phone Guy sighed through his nose and did that for him, setting them down beside the couch. He stayed there, crouched on the floor, as Mike snored away, a small stain of drool forming under his cheek. Phone Guy whimpered worriedly, "…Michael…"

…

When Phone Guy woke up the next Monday, he was surprised, shocked and ultimately relieved - because Mike was sleeping next to him. He almost cried. Phone Guy's face could've split in half, simply due to that smile, and he couldn't quite contain his excitement as he leaned over and practically laid down on top of Mike. Mike groaned as he was awakened, tilting his head to see Phone Guy leaning against him, and he frowned, "Ph'n's…t' hell…?"

"S-Sorry…" Phone Guy chuckled good-naturedly, "Uh - a-aren't you going to get up? For work?" For a moment, Phone Guy worried he might've jeopardized himself. What if Mike accidentally slept in? What if he was about to rush out of bed? Oh, Phone Guy hoped not.

Fortunately for him, Mike shook his head tiredly, "N' w'kin' day shif' t'day…Ch'lie said so…"

Oh, Phone Guy could've just exploded with joy then and there! So, Charlie _had_ listened! Mike wasn't going to work anymore horrible shifts, no more fourteen hours with no breaks! Oh, thank God! His Mike would be at home all day; they could spend time together!

…Oh. Hang on.

Phone Guy reached across Mike to get to the phone on the man's nightstand, quickly punching in a number he knew by heart. It took a moment or so before he was coughing and wheezing, "Uh - hello, hello. Um - t-this is - ack - Dr. Cawthon. I - ack - c-can't come into work today - gosh, I-I just feel terrible…Mm-hm…I will. Th-Thank you. H-Have a - ack - n-nice day." He put the phone down, immediately latching onto Mike and snuggling him, burying his smiling face in the back of his hair.

There was a moment before Mike chuckled, "…Liar…"

…

Phone Guy just couldn't wipe that smile off of his face for the entire day. He and Mike were inseparable for every second the two were at home. Phone Guy put off doing any paperwork he may have had, assuring Mike he'd do it tomorrow, and Mike found just enough energy to get out of bed and onto the couch with Phone Guy. The brunet still lounged around, but Phone Guy understood fine and well why. It was Mike's first chance to lay down and rest in ages; he was exhausted. All those missing hours of sleep. Still, he did his best to spend time with his boyfriend; Phone Guy appreciated that.

However, all good things came to an end, and Phone Guy's 'perfect' day wasn't so perfect after all.

Concern crept up on him when Mike disappeared upstairs during one of the movies they were watching. Mike seemed to be really enjoying it; he didn't think Schmidt would want to miss any. Phone Guy was about to call for him when Mike came back downstairs, wearing his purple and black uniform. Phone Guy's heart dropped. It was far too late; Freddy's would've closed by now. So…then that meant… "Mike, no."

Mike turned and looked at him blankly, "Hm?"

"Mike, I said no. Y-You can't!" Phone Guy scrambled to his feet, bowl of popcorn flying off and creating a mighty mess on the floor.

Mike fixed a black cap onto his head as Phone Guy spoke; a security guard cap. One that wasn't part of a day guard's uniform. "Woah, easy there, babe. You're makin' a mess. Heh, an' you always say I'm messy…"

"Mike, stop. I-I can't let you do this!" Phone Guy rushed over, immediately encasing Mike in his arms. "I-I'll call in for you! I'll tell Charlie no, don't worry!"

"Woah, woah, baby, what's gotten into ya?!"

"You're not working the night shift, Mike! Not again!"

Mike tensed up in Phone Guy's arms, realising he couldn't play dumb anymore. The brunet sighed, hands going to Phone Guy's back as he returned his hug, "…I've got to, baby. I told Charlie I would an' I need the cash."

No, no, don't tell him _Mike_ had requested the night shift! "W-Whatever it is you need to buy, I- _I'll_ buy it for you!"

"No way, Phones! You ain't wastin' your money on me."

"S-So, you expect me to sit back and let you work the night shift instead?!" Phone Guy snapped, pushing Mike back by the shoulders to scowl at him. His outburst shocked the both of them; the look on Mike's face made Phone Guy's scowl drop. He stared at him, teary-eyed, " _Please. Please, don't, Mike._ I-I can't… _Please._ _"_

"Hey, hey…" Mike cupped Phone Guy's face in one hand, "Don't you worry, babe, don't you worry. I've done all this before. When they were all set to twenty, even! I handled that just fine."

"Y-You ran out of _power…"_

"Well, I won't tonight." Mike leaned up and kissed Phone Guy softly, "I promise, Phones, I'll come home. Once my shift is over." He gave him a tender smile, "Besides, it's only Monday! They're alright on a Monday!"

Phone Guy sniffled and hugged Mike tightly, unwilling to let him go. Mike, however, managed to wriggle out of his grasp.

Phone Guy didn't sleep at all that night.

…

Mike worked the night shift all five nights of that week, then he was back on day shift for the weekend. Which meant two hours of sleep between his last night shift and his first day shift. By now, Phone Guy was scared. Not just as the prospect of Mike cheating on him, but for Mike's health altogether. Drinking that much coffee couldn't be good for one person. Sure, Phone Guy lived on the stuff, but that didn't mean it was _healthy._

That Monday - Valentine's Day - Phone Guy was once again left alone in the house after work, sitting in his armchair with Mike's present in his lap. He'd almost forgotten to get him anything, he was ashamed to admit, what with all this business over shifts and maybe cheating. He only hoped it was suitable; a fine way of showing Mike his affections. To be honest, Phone Guy wasn't crazy about Valentine's Day. Not since his divorce with Diane; he'd spent many Valentine's Days alone after that. The holiday just didn't feel so special to him anymore, but now he had Mike. He could at least make the effort of enjoying a holiday where he and Mike could celebrate their love for each other.

The blond jolted in his chair when he heard the front door open. Green eyes flew to the clock; it was half-past four. He frowned confusedly, eyes going to the doorway. That couldn't be…But who else had a key? "Mike?" He called out.

"Yeah, it's me, Phones." Mike's voice came from outside the room. Phone Guy blinked twice, sitting up as Mike entered the room, a bag clutched in his one, real hand. "Hey, baby."

"M-Mike…what're you doing here…?"

"Well, Jesus, Phones," Mike grinned, "can't I come home now?"

"W-Well…yeah, but…" He looked down at the present in his lap, hurriedly setting it down by his leg in an attempt to hide it. "Y-Your shift doesn't end yet…"

"I know. Charlie let me go early."

"H-He did…?"

"Well. No. But I went anyway, so fuck 'im." Mike approached Phone Guy. The blond took special notice of the bags under his eyes, wincing slightly, even as Mike continued to grin. "Here ya go, baby." He held out the bag.

Phone Guy looked at the bag, brow furrowing in confusion, "W-What…?"

"You remember what day it is, don't ya?"

"…Valentine's Day."

"Yeah." He gave the bag a little shake, "So, here ya go. From me to you. Sorry I didn't wrap it, I just didn't have time. Too excited. Jus' gotta see your face when ya see what I got ya!"

Phone Guy took the bag from him gently, cautiously bringing it in close. He gave a careful peek inside, then opened the bag and reached in, taking out the gift Mike had bought him. It was a book; the fifth volume in a set of detective novels Phone Guy had gotten addicted to recently. Clean, not battered at all; in perfect condition. Green eyes took in every detail, savouring the feel of the book in his hands, and he breathed, "…M-Mike, I…thank you…"

"Hey, c'mon, you ain't seen the best part! Open it up, babe! First page!"

Phone Guy did so; his breath was firmly stolen. Within, there on the page, a signature. The man's mouth opened and closed like a fish's as Mike chuckled, "Yup! Your awesome boyfriend got you a signed book from your favourite author! First edition, too!"

Phone Guy was flabbergasted; his words gone. First edition…? Signed…? God, how had Mike even…? "F-First…? O-Oh, gosh…M-Mike, I…"

"You can say it!" Mike said smugly, hands on his hips, "I'm awesome."

"I…I-I can't accept this…"

Mike's grin dropped, as did his hands, "What? Why not?"

"I-It must've cost…s-so much…"

"Well, sure it did, why'd ya think I took all those extra hours?"

And the penny dropped. Phone Guy's heart stopped.

Mike had taken on those hours…for him. To pay for a first edition, signed book for Phone Guy. He'd exhausted himself, practically made himself ill, reduced himself to a lounging ball of drooling laziness…for him. Phone Guy slapped a hand to his mouth, tears flooding his eyes. He couldn't believe it. He'd actually began thinking Mike was cheating on him, actually began to panic over such a thing, and it wasn't anything like that. He felt a strange mixture of shame, flattery and general emotion of one who had just received the best gift he could've gotten.

"Phones? Don't you like it?" Phone Guy lifted his head to look at Mike with watery green eyes. The brunet immediately went to him, "Oh, baby, don't do that…Gosh, I'll take it back…"

Phone Guy shook his head, "N-No, it's perfect, I…oh, Mike, _thank you._ I-I can't…Oh, God…" He sniffled, wiping at one eye, before turning to Mike and hugging him the best he could while sitting down. Mike returned his embrace, smiling widely, until Phone Guy muttered, "M-Mike, I…I'm so sorry…"

"Sorry?" Mike broke the hug, leaning back to look at him, "What for?"

"I…I thought…N-No, I didn't _think,_ but Fritz said you might be…"

"Might be what?"

"…Ch-Cheating on me…"

Mike's face went blank, eyes widening as he stared at him, completely shocked at the notion. There were a few, painful moments, in which Phone Guy worried Mike would yell at him, then Mike muttered, "Cheating…? Babe…you don't seriously think I would…"

"N-No! I don't! I-I told Fritz it was ridiculous! I-I just…I went to Freddy's the other week a-and you weren't _there_ and Charlie didn't know where you were a-and I - I _panicked_ and -"

"Hey, easy there," Mike stroked his hand gently, "Y'know where I was? Checkin' if that book was still in the store. The guy said he'd sell it off if I didn't collect it soon, so I just wanted to make sure it was still there for me."

"O-Oh, God, Mike, I'm so sorry…"

"Hey, c'mon, don't be silly. I'd be pretty suspicious of me too." He cracked a grin, lifting Phone Guy's hand to his lips to kiss the knuckles. Phone Guy sniffled and managed to smile at him, making Mike grin, "Now, where's _my_ present? C'mon, don't think I didn't see it before…!"

Phone Guy blushed in embarrassment and reached over to pick it up, holding it out on his palm, "I-It's not anything special…"

"Hey, anything's special when it's from you, baby." Mike took it from him, ripping the wrapping paper away with a few quick swipes of his prosthetic hand. A medium-sized black box. "Oh, babes, you ain't proposin', are ya?" He teased.

"I - T-That's not even legal…"

"Pfft. I've done illegal stuff before." Mike pushed his prosthetic fingers under the lid, managing to flip it up carefully. His grin dropped, if only in surprise, as a brand new, gold watch sat on the small cushion inside the box. It shined brilliantly in the light, ticking away softly at the correct time. Mike blinked slowly, "Jesus…"

"I-Is it okay? I…Y-You said a while ago that you need a new watch, so…"

"Phones, it's…it's just perfect. Thank you so much…" He leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to Phone Guy's lips, one that the blond man returned sweetly. The men stayed locked in their kiss before Mike broke it as he pulled back, attention going back to his watch. Carefully, he lifted it out and, with a bit of assistance from his boyfriend, locked it around his right wrist.

"Oh," Phone Guy smiled, "v-very smart." He lifted Mike's right hand and entwined their fingers, stroking his thumb along Mike's hand gently, "M-Mike, I…no more extra shifts, okay? Not even for me. A-And no more night shifts! Not ever! D-Do you understand me, Mike? I-I don't want you t-to work that shift ever, _ever_ again!"

Mike smiled good-naturedly, "Got it, Phones. I promise I won't, okay? I just…really wanted to get ya somethin' special. Saw that book in the shop and just had to get it for ya, but…I promise I won't pull a stunt like this again, okay?"

Phone Guy nodded and leaned over the chair's arm to bury his face in Mike's shoulder, holding his hand tightly, "I…I was really scared when you worked the night shift again…"

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I-It's alright…D-Don't worry about it…"

They stayed like that until Mike let out a loud yawn, which prompted Phone Guy to stand up. "C'mon," he started leading Mike to the doorway.

"Where we goin'?" Mike asked tiredly.

"Bed."

"Oh, babe, not today, I ain't got the _energy…"_

"N-Not that…!" Phone Guy blushed. God, did everyone think about that, first thing? Well, Phone Guy couldn't ask that. Such a hypocrite. "You're exhausted and you're going to sleep. I-I've been deprived of cuddles, Mike, a-and that simply won't do." Phone Guy joked, "B-Besides, I've got my book to read now."

"Heh. So long as ya don't start ignoring me to read it, like ya did with the others."

Oh, that was a problem. Phone Guy just got so addicted to reading sometimes, y'know? His house could light on fire and he wouldn't know it. "Heh. I'll try not to, promise."

For the rest of the day, Phone Guy was sitting up in bed, book open and eyes scanning the words quickly and thoroughly. Occasionally, he would stop to look down at the man tucked under his arm, head on his belly, snuggled up close at his side. Mike snored quietly, finally getting the good rest he'd been needing, and Phone Guy smiled tenderly down at him and kissed his head, fingers gently running through his brown hair.

Best Valentine's Day ever.


End file.
